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I heard it be told these doves |
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Come in black |
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There's coal in their feathers, |
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They follow the tracks |
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Of steam locomotives |
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Bound for the hills |
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We trade in our white wings |
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And wait for the thrill |
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Fire blank bullets |
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And misjudge the truth |
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We star in our own biographical spoof |
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Mistake the treasure, |
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Count it all wrong |
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We use what is made easy |
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And we use it too long |
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It's hard to remember |
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The difference between |
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Ending it all |
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And wiping it clean |
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The lack of compassion |
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Is smoke in your eyes |
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The bottom - it falls |
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When it stands upon pride |
