Quitter

blood work done will say we're poison i will taste
from your lips will you taste from my lips to be sure
we'll sit here turning blue together one final collapse
of our union is well deserved goodbye surrounded by
his tribe shaman tells of men in the sky no one will
believe the contrails in the sky will prove him right
fell in love with isolation an obvious thought given
time to reflect on events we're finding blessing in
departure a slowly decaying resolve to set forth alone i wish you well