Frozen Fingers

The white keys are teeth within a rotted bone
The whiskey is a poison and the winter air is lone
I strike the wood with fingers which have lost the power to feel
I never knew the vacancy was made of fucking steel
The potter turned the wheel and left a fissure in the bowl
I’m pouring out the liquid just to fix a leaking soul
My joints are like jagged rock beneath a frozen hide
I’m playing for the rotting ache which is festering inside

The frost is in the center of the bone I cannot feel
The winter is the only thing which is ever fucking real
I’m balanced on the edge of nothing
begging for the spark
A blind man by the keyboard screaming hymns into the dark