Unraveling

You want me lean and tough
Am I starved and scabbed enough?
All these lesions are
Are bruises and scratches from God
From unraveling the point of things
From soft inklings to stabbing flings

In old and fraying clothes
We ache and chafe in cold
Wrong-night dreams of lust
When beauty is rationed to us
In a random kiss, a smoky gist
An engine's hiss of pistons missed

In the myth of motion, our surroundings follow us
Through the static greys of smoke and boredom
Into sharp horizons, blinded by our sons

The ends of dead-end nights
Stroking pets in flight
Leave red peculiar marks
That become who we are
It's unraveling, this ego thing
A paper sling on a broken wing



Credits
Writer(s): Steve Chanin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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