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The Fisherman
Me and my friends we go down to the water.
We talk about getting older.
We're folding to the ocean.
Stitch up my chest, cast my heart in a bottle.
My body will walk up the shore till he finds it.
I miss the warmth crawling up inside my skin.
Looking at the sun, the pieces fall into place–
this cityscape–
I gotta burst out.
The fisherman feels a pulse on his line,
reels in my heart like a call to the sky.
But, he throws it for my own good.
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A god among men gives the task to the waves,
left me a chance to learn from mistakes and be honest.
Be honest.
My feet are in the sand and my head's in the sky,
but my heart's in the water as I justify
the earth, the wind, the waves all to collide.
I salute to the fisherman,
built an ark with my bare hands– said I'm done pitying my scars, set sail for my human heart 3x
I salute to the fisherman, built an ark with my bare hands– said I'm done pitying my scars– can't live as a human heartless.
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