You are the ink under my skin.
When the voices quiet in my head you are there waiting.
You are the pain that's beating on my heart,
The grace that waits and hopes for me each time I start?
Over and over again. Over and over again.
Nothing here is perfect. Not us, not love, not time, not skin. So when we burn and fall, it's up from the ashes as each wave crashes. Then we wake up to one more day that we've been given To start?
Over and over again with you.