Ivory Black

The less and less I sing As my skin begins to creep For I recognize the truth About the permanence of me. And we are paper-thin, We're tearing at the folds. You're living if you're warm, But I'm just feeling... Cold, but I'm not dead. Carrying all these fears on wings of lead. Coursed between the cracks; Burn my bones to ivory black. The less and less I sing As my mouth begins to feed On any ease I find, But nothing that I need. The moment I am sure I am sure to second guess. I'll never learn to fly If I never leave this nest. The moment I am sure I am sure to second guess. I'm not looking for a home, I'm just looking for some rest. And like a wooden frame, With silk-screen for a hide: From my pours I recreate The same old stupid lies. And with my teeth and with my nails I'll scratch off my designs. Cold, but I'm not dead. Carrying all these fears on wings of lead. Coursed between the cracks; Burn my bones to ivory black. And like a wooden frame, With silk-screen for a hide: From my pours I recreate The same old stupid lies. And with my teeth and with my nails I'll scratch off my designs.