Bicycle Thieves

Shelter, in library
From rattle, machinery.
Try to articulate,
On paper, how love has gone.
I’m a frightened spider in your mouth,
You’re too frightened to speak and let me out.

These are splinters of half formed thoughts,
These are splinters of battles fought.
These are splinters of half formed thoughts,
These are splinters of battles fought.

Stolen bicycle,
Take me, so I am gone.
Over paths and fields,
Is this how lovers feel?
I’m a shard of glass that’s in your eye.
You can’t wash me out, ‘cause you won’t cry.

These are splinters of half formed thoughts,
These are splinters of battles fought.
These are splinters of half formed thoughts,
These are splinters of battles fought.