Our Lost Infantry The Tremors
(verse)
Pounding at the temples as it starts
It blossoms like bruises on hands and hips and hearts
Whole days without speaking a word, nights spent curled like a newborn
Losing all sense of momentum, the weight of my body is gone
(chorus)
These things come out at night
(verse)
Dead from the neck down
These feet will just make it home
To hide in the dark of my ribcage
To wait til the tremors have gone
Breaking the tips from my fingers and spitting the words from my tongue
(chorus)
These things come out at night