I wanna cut open my chest and let her in, but that won’t fix what needs to mend. And she stands here unlit cigarette in hand, filling up that empty hole with anything that’ll pour. Insides hanging out like a flare, warning. There’s beauty in that pain, can you see it? She’s crashing through life with seatbelt hands, one accident away from a miracle.
Listener – Seatbelt Hands