Spider Jar - Helms Alee

Inky black does fill the veins of giving thanks and please

Tried to lie but lied at trying

Tried to be the breeze

I can’t even hear your face

The noise floor rise to fill the space

And not one worth a drink to

In the trees

Bolt hard

Bolt into the sound

Swear hard

And ride them underground

Canonize the ink that pours

Celebrate the seed

Cautious not to understand

Promised to the dream

Foreign feelings win the scraps

Left to fester, cursed to lapse

A willingness to fray

Is all you’ll ever need

Bolt hard

Bolt into the sound

Swear hard

And ride them underground

Maxed out version of the taste

Separate the runner from the race