Contrails - 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