Crooked Timber (Therapy?)

Miles away from Those that matter Unfamiliar place Hours bleed out and Days tail off then Night degrades to gray Crooked timber Keep me warm and safe Bells toll slowly Loud dark iron Can't place where I am No clear signal Scraping dragging Fate pulls faces Crooked timber Steer me keep me sane Times’ attrition Grinds these landscapes Sifts them into shape My resistance To it’s pressure Buckles more each day Crooked timber That we can’t make straight My shade will comfort you