|
Wearily and weathered |
|
lungs filled with new |
|
there's a days worth of sky |
|
hovering over you |
|
no it's not the sand |
|
nor is it the dreams |
|
that now blow across the acres |
|
as clothes loosen in their seems |
|
one by one - coming undone |
|
we scurry to be one up on the sun |
|
You landed here with fear |
|
Gone north and put to rest |
|
The cross around your neck is now |
|
Buried in your chest |
|
Sleep for the sake of the night |
|
And wake in the hope of finding a light |
|
Throw your drunken hands |
|
Across the scenery |
|
And your drunken thoughts on temporality |
|
Everything lay so still, almost dead |
|
Except the blood-red sky over head |
|
Sleep for the sake of the night |
|
And wake in the hope, but fumble in light |
|
Throw your sunken dreams |
|
At the scenery |
|
with your sunken hopes |
|
For longevity |
|
The country lay as still as the dead |
|
Save the blood-red moon up ahead |
