Armor made of stone
He who recollects, forgive us
On the way down, we understand what it means to break down
On the way out you decide to believe that on the way out its too late
It's the same
All lines you all used to know
It's the same
Trembling with no limbs, crow skin; a perpetual startled breed
The ache, no one to find
The writing was still traced and shy and never really aimed to show you
Still watching you rolling on whats good for
Mistaken but you were always once before you know.
