Lost touch of the sense that used to feel the morning
These arms still heavy from what carried us before
Could use a breath from the old and familiar
Before we tire out
Still sinking fast without this line
We'll let this play again
A last chance at falling out
A half cry from the bottom up won't make a sound
We'll follow my lead tonight
We'll let this play again
Bring back the same old sense that used to feed the evening
Another night of loosened tongues and swimming heads
Could use a breath from the old and familiar
Before we tire out
Still sinking fast without this line
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