|
crooked heals on battered boots |
|
shoot down ragged miles |
|
i'm coming home |
|
i'm like a girl |
|
in all her rags |
|
and all her pearls |
|
i hear her talk |
|
through vicious teeth |
|
sing god is gone |
|
stop hanging on my sleeve |
|
and i can't speak |
|
and all of that will never please |
|
a hollow moon hung like a heart |
|
stars like dirty sparks |
|
on dirty seas |
|
and never seen |
|
and all of that |
|
and all of these |
|
i hear her dust |
|
fall at her feet |
|
and christ and all his crows |
|
can't keep it neat |
|
so what of me |
|
and all that i don't wanna be |
|
a bitter taste |
|
a bitter pill |
|
says nothing's ever true |
|
and ever will become of me |
|
or make a sense of |
|
what i see |
|
on broken nerves |
|
in ragged clothes |
|
eyes that never close |
|
stare back at me |
|
and never see |
|
and holler names |
|
and follow me |
|
what's written now |
|
you can't erase |
|
and pages from my past |
|
get in my way |
|
for one of why |
|
i make a stand |
|
or take a side |
