song | june 8

underground the seeds are spoiling
tears that water them are boiling
dropping spare hints in the round
(can we convince them not to leave us?)

underneath the bones are peeling
from their casings they are stealing
undergone and now unbound
(they still long for incarnation)

in the background if you listen
burning little fireflies glisten
floating flames like hot ash from the fire

in the foreground we envision
fishes puking ammunition
minds are dirty like the dishes
and those sacrilegious fish

what you wanted now you've got it
is it what you really wanted
could it be you were misled?
where on earth are grasses greener
than the pipe inside your head?
now we're guessing you've expected
far too much and now instead

minds are dirty like your hands
when you push through some other mans
precious little sopping wet it
holds you tight with little hands

it seeps out through the spaces
like a trembling stream in spring
it closes on you sucks the fears out
makes you feel like you can bring

the whole world crashing on your head 
with out the consequence of death
but did you know that as we grow 
we learn that death is all we get?

your whole point of view has failed you
seedlings are what turned you askew
seeing rightly confiscated
what you thought love consummated

giving in to feeling fleshing
bodies in your bedroom meshing
what gave your life cause for threshing?
who'll convince you not to leave us?

waking in arms ritual
religious and not spiritual
sex is sex and love is lust
(and who'll convince you not to leave us?)

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