"Contrails" by Quitter

blood work done will say we're poison i will taste from your
lips will you taste from my lips to be sure we'll sit here
turning blue together one final collapse of our union is
well deserved goodbye surrounded by his tribe shaman tells
of men in the sky no one will believe the contrails in the
sky will prove him right fell in love with isolation an
obvious thought given time to reflect on events we're
finding blessing in departure a slowly decaying resolve to
set forth alone i wish you well