Steep - The Acorn

This could be our last resort

Lets cut these limbs that weigh us down

The spies hide out in smoky leaves

Our love is sweet espionage

My temper flares with moves off course

Romance misplaced in busy days

The night sinks like stones in this dirty gut

That haunt with the ghosts our bodies make

And I swing sweet

And skim these streets

That hold me in one piece

And dismiss these spells

Of wishing wells

Whose costs on me

Have been too steep