like those clever traps
a bit of wire
a rusty barb
I've seen some people set
and never check for prey
there are tripwires
in the righteous sneers of some of us
in their boots they carry
the seeds of all those vines they cut
in the papers
of the pigs
and the whispers
of the kids there was one word...
feels like this room is getting small,
we're only talking to the walls
there was one word.
take heed,
warning,
whisper,
not me
take heed,
warning,
whisper,
not me
this is just snare and snarl,
raccoon blood and kerosene
a wasted feeling,
eating paper like a trick
by this threadbare chord held together
so we're connected tightly but only just
feels like this room is getting small,
soon there will be no room at all
