Threads - Or, the Whale

March: cold and damp;

the rain soaks to my bones

I’m walking uphill past Victorian homes

My insides hollowed out

From whiskey chasing doubt

But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread

And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead

One April morn marks the day of my birth

Well I’m just twenty-four and I’m weighing my worth

But I’ll soon be twenty-five

Just bury me alive

But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread

And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead

May mormon bride, waking up with the sun

It’s all I can do to put down your gun

Well I wouldn’t have the nerve

A coward’s learning curve

But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread

And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead

But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread

And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead