Cities and Years

Play with the bow at the bridge.
Tune your voices to minor chords.
This is the lowest
we've ever been
until we bend for the offering.
We're giving a knee jerk response
to the awe.

We come strapped to the bed,
on display from the duty of tour.
They picked up the signals
we tapped to the visitors
And our sea legs
were lost on the march
from the graves to the cross.
We brandish the plague
of the middleman's heart.

Sing the rats through the gate.

I was still in one piece
when they tied me to the back of the car.
but I met the road
and I've slept with thousands
of miles since the day I was born.
Our shoes are milled to the sole
and our souls are skin and bones.
If I'm a stranger still
just move the severed pieces around.

So coarse is the world.
We're going back and forth
and back and forth grinding
our bodies into dust.

We'll never make it home alive.
Play with the bow at the bridge.
All girls buy the enemy line.
Woe! Such remarkable woe.
Hold sight of him. Point him out.

I was still in one piece
when they tied me to the back of the car
but I met the road
and I've slept with thousands of miles since
the day I was born.
Our shoes are milled
to the sole and our souls
are skin and bones.
If I'm a stranger still
just move the severed pieces around.

So coarse is the world.
We're going back and forth
and back and forth grinding
our bodies into dust.

War! Come with us home.