I've removed my burning lenses
as to not see the road that lies in wait
My arms fail in length to reach the other side
As though the bridge has opened to forgo the battleships
But will not draw for me to pass
I will not look down to cold,angry water
And behind me whispers on my neck orations
that sweat me, harder than July nights before the storms
Oh, how I loved those storms, the rumbles and rain,
The sounds the cannons would fire off the ships
as they tunneled through the channel.
