Featherweight

curse our arms
pretentious hands wrapped to fight
their proudest range cannot extend towards the dark
facing all odds we’ll miss our jabs

although the evidence is right upon our faces 
we're trusting our defense
crave for quietness crave for safer space

even if everything we need is subject to fade away
we hide our pain hold back our tears and wait

for better days in vain

although the evidence is right upon our faces 
we trusting our defense
crave for quietness crave for safer space

even if everything we need is subject to fade away
we lick our sores dry our tears and wait

for better days in vain