No, that's not what lovers do
No, that’s not what lovers do.
Pulling splinters from your brain
Looking for something to hew
My skin gets wet before the rain
Pulling splinters from your brain
Letting vowels unlace
My skin gets wets before the rain
Fingers slip in the space
Letting vowels unlace
Your hands collect the dew
Fingers slip in the space
I should’ve known to mother you.
Your hands collect the dew
Your eyes water like a child’s
I should’ve known to mother you;
No, that’s not what lovers do.