The Fisherman by Ness

Me and my friends we go down to the water. 

We talk about getting older. We’re folding to the ocean. 

Stitch up my chest, cast my heart in a bottle. 

My body will walk up the shore till he finds it.

I miss the warmth crawling up inside my skin. 

Looking at the sun, the pieces fall into place– 

this cityscape– I gotta burst out.

The fisherman feels a pulse on his line, 

reels in my heart like a call to the sky. 

But he throws it for my own good. 

A god among men gives the task to the waves, 

left me a chance to learn from mistakes and be honest. Be honest. 

My feet are in the sand and my head's in the sky, 

but my heart's in the water as I justify the earth, the wind, the waves all to collide.

I salute to the fisherman, 

built an ark with my bare hands– 

said I’m done pitying my scars, 

set sail for my human heart. 

I salute to the fisherman, 

built an ark with my bare hands– 

said I’m done pitying my scars– 

can’t live as a human heartless.