All the uncertainty that comes with unsure, and all the unraveling that
comes with her first. The product of our twisted ride, a tangled
consequence grows inside. That milks the harbor dry by day, to whet the
night with words to say. And don the coming red with fear, so cyclic
drives can reappear. Fill the darkness, feel control, as stabbing
questions take their toll. The thoughtless act that ne'er occurred, in my
hesitation to swear by the word. And the realignment it took to maintain,
the split decision that we never made.

10/07/2002

Posted on 07/18/2003
Copyright © 2023 Daniel Peterson