Blood Sports

Soft as soufflé
Rich as pine
Count the days until your mine
Summer fades and autumn riles
Count the ways in which I'm fine
And I dreamt you again
The rhythm falling through my head

It's primal
It's primitive
Revolver without question
We stare at him
Till he stares back
Soldiers made of sand
Bent on pushing back the ocean
Though often times I beg for it
I want it on my terms
And I dreamt you again
The rhythm falling through my head

It's just the slow coarse of blood beneath the dome
Rationalising distances to keep my love from everyone
Though half the time I beg for it I vow to never learn
Love has been deprived for so long
And I dreamt you again
The rhythm dancing through my head