When you're not here, i go down to the water
I bury my hands, i keep looking for something else
The specifics fade, when dawns cloak unravels
There's nothing real in such a slow decay
(a slow decay)
Something else, something else
(every line, a broken cadence
Every line, a rearrangement)
Everything i write is a letter to the future
To someone who knows just where these words were kept.