Gloria

Jarrett Osborn

When the shivers go right down your spine like a river
Or the whiplash from turning your head to the coast

Brace, the stormfront breaching outside,
Every tree, bends like a dragons tail
We lean our bodies toward the headwinds
turning our clothes into a makeshift sail

Burned out fuses, electrical fires, broken towers
Carry ships to the gardens and doors like a toy