The Republic of Wolves Follow

I sent a crackling message
It had grown old inside my mouth
It was phonetically in tact,
But the meanings were mismanaged in a way

You were a bed of coral
In some domesticated dream.
You were laconic when you woke,
But our words had all been sewed up all the same, even my name.

We were both simplified
And sharpened into symbols
that we hadn't even tried to understand.

And we felt something tear
But we held the sorry truth inside our throats
We let it burn, and scratch, and claw, and finally fall.

Our fear was tightly packaged
In some warehouse we had built.
You said I'd tried too fucking hard
And got caught up in definitions from the start

So I met a sickly liar
And I borrowed both his lungs
Thought maybe I'd set them straight,
But his guilt, it fit me better anyway.

And I don't think you'll ever know
How hard it was to let that go
Yeah, I guess I lost control
But I never will again