Tailor

Jarrett Osborn

The sight of hands wringing, a worrying glance
you feel pins and needles, seems all left to chance

When I lose control of, the marbles and pegs
It’s all an illusion, all in your head – if you don’t mind

The depth of the panic, a bargain instead
Like some kind of sewing, with invisible thread

So I’ll be the tailor, I’ll keep you safe
Caught in a stalemate, it’s all in your head - if you don’t mind