Frayed and
Analytical
Fake it
Until the centre boils through
Astral
Asked to act it out
Pastor
Passed a passport but it's you

My heaven waits
Our door
Hold heavy 'til flocks soar
I'm sore and ready to deteriorate

Hunger
Never one for that
Under
Hanging blanket fort of fools

My heaven waits
Our door
Hold heavy 'til flocks soar
I'm sore and ready to deteriorate
But wait
There's more
Arm wrestles and thumb wars
Then boredom you won't alleviate