[Zach Quinn:]
I’ll paint my eyes
To break my stuttered gaze with no reply
I hold my everything
Devout enough to lose
Easy to replace
Predicated grieving in the slots of foreign cues
And I’m grateful for my blessings, save a few
Isolate imbued with no remission
Temples twinge of pride
Depiction of vision
Notions pouring out all molten slow
Await the doorbell
Waste not our time
Moon hangs sullenly, abets the climb
Hand held anonymous
I beg for clemency
Clinging to your wayside patiently
Rock and roll
Isolate imbued with no remission
Temples twinge of pride
Depiction of vision
Notions pouring out all molten slow
Await the doorbell
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