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?