Intuition Imperfected - 31Knots

Daringly we bring it to a boil

Bearing all the flesh before we court

Your skin is on fire

My mouth is wide open

Intuition imperfected

In decisions discerning you

What do I do?

What do I do?

My hand of anger, your lips of blue

Seems like now that the chances we make

Fair as well as the chances we fake

The fate of the facts is the force we follow

The front is fine but the back is

Too shallow and vain

Why do I try to complain?