the pain is too clean to tell;
they say every dreamer dreams only of herself.
it's under the thunder
under the shackles of her eyes
the flame's too big to tell;
she overshot the wishing well.

swimming all day to keep warm
sometimes the field burrows into the worm
it's wide in the divide
widen the shackles of her eyes
the gaps too narrow to tell
her glad heart is so light it's unwell.

because of this you'll never know
how long or far or which way the breath blows.
it's in losing the light
in losing the ashes of your cigarette
the shackles aren't anything to fear
until the clanking is all you can hear.