TillTheVulturesCome - BONES

Where the feelings stem, is far beyond dialect, it’s somewhat beautiful

Far too many thoughts clashing, till there is not one, every time I act

surprised

With my eyes is not the only way I’m seeing you, cut the mountain I would still

have you in my view

You are etched into my skull till the vultures come

And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter

You are etched into my soul till the vultures come

And gather up my bones, and fly south for the winter