Workhorse - 36 Crazyfists

In the morning when the cold hurts most, starvation the cancer within it’s host

This is frightening and this is profane;

the way that we ease into age

We only need this bread to let us know that hunger lies unaligned with being

alone

This is frightening (x3)

It’s so cold

Age secures us our space in the storm where we will weather worn like a well

worked whore

Time will take us by our tender wounds and scab us hard and leave us blue

White light, white light, white light

This can’t be right

One life?

Despite who knew that I didn’t want to be with you

I don’t want to die alone…