bruises are artifacts   holding the ashes of instinct   slow down the world to make a point   forget how to act    how to breathe and just learn to blend   piecing together the bull in the heather   the stiff in the spineless    and everything under your tongue      racing to find you and losing our way back to    the end of you   racing to lose and finding our way back to   the thought of you      i’ll always have everything   but waste it like days that just stand still   slow down the world to make a point   forget how to act    how to breathe and just learn to blend   piecing together the bull in the heather   the stiff in the spineless    and everything under your tongue      racing to find you and losing our way back to    the end of you   racing to lose you and finding our way back to   thoughts of you   until now, my eyes understood      you just said all you could say   said it you waited and forget      it's under your tongue