Birds In Row - Rodin

Two riddled hands.
The tumult of Friday night.
They're all partying but us like they don't hear the sound of the dismantling of cities, our jiseis.
Since all we have left is love, I will love you dearly. Since all we had was lost, I will help you find me. Two hands lost in the dark trying to feel a thing. Something, anything worth the wait.
I wish I could be more, a Rodin on concrete Standing through the debris, full of promises to keep.
I wish I could pretend there's some kind of a sanctuary standing through the debris you're the only chapel I need.
Bodies of iron and dust, they stumble.
Like drunkards at dawn it's on our houses they fall. We're standing through the debris Trying to feel a thing.
Something.