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I ran a trail of fire |
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Through the meadow paths |
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Guided by the river banks |
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And trees from which |
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They'll have me hang |
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Keep running away from the fire |
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Keep running away from the light |
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Til it's gone |
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Are all our summers |
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At one with the ground? |
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And everything I loved you for |
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A trail of fire from the door |
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That leads me to a hiding place |
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And locking me inside |
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How loud this blade of grass |
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How long til' eventide? |
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The dark that shroud |
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Your loving neighbor |
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He's the one who lit the paper |
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While the reason's unexpressed |
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And the sources undetermined |
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The innocent are voiceless |
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The voiceless are innocent |
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Should I cut the middleman? |
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Just dig a hole and throw me in |
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Say a prayer to my loving savior |
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He's the one who lit the paper |
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From them I strip the title |
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Extinguished and misuse |
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And all our engraved memories |
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Are unsuccessful remedies |
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I'm sick of papering the cracks |
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And extinguishing the fire tracks |
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Though flawed by design |
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I'm torn from the strife |
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That did pile at the door |
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But is feared no more |
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Though I once wedded her |
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And her want was to play |
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As another's arms held |
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Took her wanting away |
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Questions on top of questions |
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Don't think that |
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It is too late for me |
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Unsung, untied, unalive |
