This will stay with you for a while now.
I'm fascinated with the past and what it's done to you.
You can call me sentimental if you wanted to.
And you can call me nieve as I look for truth.
When you were seven and the bees they had it out for you,
The air smelled nothing like the city you'd eventually move to.
Now what convinced you that you were so deserving
when you though god was punishing you?
The quiet desperation of your mother in her hearts chamber.
The simmering, foreclosed exhaustion of your father with his eyes on the weather.
And if you could forgive yourself as quickly.
The world is spinning on a point of soft earth!
You can dirty your hands burying a broken heart or so I've heard.
And if you could stay here my baby,
We could use you as a sundial and maybe
If we collected collective memories,
Bestow your tribal powers on our budding family.