He floats down the river in a basket odd She bandages the eyes of the household gods He commands the fires that contort the light He walks down the stairs, lays down the night A ragged grey moon rises over the walls Her tears wet the carpets of the winding halls Her hands feed the dogs of the winter snow Her hearth grows cold in the wild echo The hounds are scratching To get out of their cage Sunken wounds Hateful words of rage That can't be unsaid Stuck in a maze with the walking dead Asphyxiating Levitating Taken to bed Never giving up the ghost Kneeling for the host This is my body This is my blood These are the twisted limbs I love the most She patches the plaster then she mends a seam He ignites the chamber of the seraphim And I'm watching from a window like a shadow play Down below, no one can tell that they've run away And I'm helpless To do a goddamned thing Am I selfish To burn the rope that makes them swing Am I great enough To get out in front of this wave To save the ones that still can be saved I used to be brave But now I'm full of doubt They'll ever make it out alive