Emily

Who will tend our bones, listening to the rain, does a river run alone, let songs and poems ring, through suburban stations, we don't owe a thing, herring gulls that soar, see them all again, when we climb aboard, their cry a broken thing, as the seasons change, train lines track the sea, swore we’d never blow, just to change our ways, but always time you know, to struggle with everything, we'll always find a way, drain all our softenings, keep us on the rails.