|
civilized |
|
all our lives |
|
not a breath |
|
the grass unmoved |
|
to sleep inside the stillness |
|
without blood |
|
without air |
|
all the stares |
|
averting eyes |
|
this was what's worse than dying |
|
my mind was set |
|
just like the sun's red |
|
but now the sun is setting |
|
there have been some |
|
that cut me good |
|
the blood was there for letting |
|
the weekend nights |
|
can change your life |
|
unfold your arms |
|
one last surprise |
|
something before we die |
|
our eyes closed |
|
once more will not roll |
|
this killing is good killing |
|
despite the red and years and years of sinning |
|
elizabeth is winning |
|
bikes on dirt roads |
|
in st. andrews |
|
under pines i'd let you win |
|
canada is purity |
|
that has nothing to do with our skin |
|
unrefined |
|
the pitch of pines |
|
grass stained shirts |
|
and fucked up hair |
|
to breathe outside the stillness |
|
with your blood |
|
and the air |
|
withstand the stares |
|
straighten eyes |
|
we do not fear this dying |
|
our eyes are closed |
|
once more will not roll |
|
this killing is good killing |
|
despite the red and years and years of sinning |
|
elizabeth is winning |
|
forget these lights |
|
we don't need so much explaining |
|
elizabeth is winning |
