Poor Thing

by The Calm Before

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two months, eight weeks.


Slow down.
Leave my tongue to twitch,
and you'll remain a knot in my stomach.
I want to rip it out, never be sick.

Your color still drips from this;
all the windows painted over with dull creations.
I fought to look out to the grass where you lay.
The soft blades on your skin, and I'd like to be them.

Your color painted me that shade.

And I'm tied to the tracks, but I don't need you to rescue me.
I need you to be the train.
I need you.

I'm not ready to be sick again.


released July 23, 2014
music by the calm before
lyrics by matthew

produced/engineered by Lucas Haupt



all rights reserved


The Calm Before Chicago, Illinois

Started in December 2011. Stories from four guys living in the Chicago area.

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