i pour a glass of wine each night when i come home press my fingers to the strings and strike a chord kick off my shoes, kick out the nerves, kick up my heart open my secret wounds and sew them into art there's artifacts of broken dishes on the floor lines on my face that crack a smile, the lines i can't draw kick off my shoes, kick out the nerves, kick up my heart open in my secret wounds and sew them into art
i think of all the different lives that would have been if i stayed another course to wind up where i am if i took different beds to gave back more instead either way's another means to an end so i kick off my shoes, kick out the nerves, kick up my heart open my secret wounds and sew them into art