Ivory Hours
Thread
Standing in the corner
Echoing that anecdote
Separated from the chatter
By the wine and cigarette smoke

And my eggshell plans
Have got me reeling
That shivery thread tied to my wrists

I'm a shallow coffer
Of hand-picked memories
A ragged patchwork quilt
Of woven guilt and reverie

And my eggshell plans
Have got me reeling
That shivery thread tied to my wrists

I’m a lamb at the slaughter
I'm a slave to my needs
Fell asleep underwater
Washing blood from my fleece

And my eggshell plans
Have got me reeling
That shivery thread tied to my wrists