I keep crouching in remnants of him
Of your memory laying all folded in remnants of mine
To carve deep enough to see your neck's open pulse
I take whatever it gives
Your youth, I take whatever it gives
Am I the last, am I the one?
Until you speak it my dreams will be real
His left right arm pushes and pulls me so far
And I channel something more
And I feel it spear right through my fingertips
And I bless those crooked arms
Wrap their limbs around me
Writer(s): Rebecka Kristiansson, Victoria Skoglund, Anna Tomlin, Emelie Molin
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