My left handed heart is still painting your face
over the walls of my dim mind
These contrary winds hiding under my eyelids
I hope I can stomach the weight.
But each bristling wave is an unfinished thought,
swept out of view by the next one.
I've tried and I'm trying to string them together,
but oh what a waste of my rope.
Like a disappearing act
On a lofty brown bed, treading masses of blue
I started coughing up questions.
There's a giant asleep under all of this water,
I'm searching in vain for his name.
Written on my tongue,
There is none merciful but God.
Iron pinned you down
You were coming unstitched
You were flickering
And you didn't have time to ask why
Something was circling our heads
Was it the patron saint of death?
I heard you spoke from your new grave,
"There is no truth that will not fade."
Well I guess you'd know better than me.
It was noon when the rope came down
Somehow nobody saw the stroke fall
Guess we all thought misfortune asleep
Instead of writing your name
After all of your wandering
After so much sun baking your skin
Still the wind it would pierce you straight through
And it saddens your soul