I woke up with a card on my stomach,
A warning much better than knots
But the smell of forget-me-nots
Still serves the same function in its absence.
As city planner, I'll collapse the span of bridges
To take back all the ridges of lost time.
And from the snapped suspension,
I will find the inclination to breathe with purpose
Like the machine I want to become.
Give me crutches with hooks
And I'll string them up again,
Feet barely on the ground like a marionette.
Yeah, I'll wrap this life with splints
And stitch it up with no regrets.