Speak, speak in pitch,
wicked light sleep, no magic trick! no burning bridge!
nor rabbit kit could build these
graves, in the sky,
burning bright bliss on the skin of your
eye, little priss, right church wrong pew if your selling
your favorite understanding
leave the children to their brandings
leave the grownups to dismember
stray wages and luck
lanterns burned all winter
like the darkness had formed blisters
grown tender, grown tender as a fuse
at night, fugues of ordinance
flicker out to each of us
these things don't speak at all
when it's, never strange enough,
when it's, never plain enough,
to bleed, to bleed, to bleed, to bleed the energy away
our side of the sea, we have different ways and means
breathe, i breathe my whims
if these hands don't shake when the air runs
thin, costs so much, man it costs so much not to let them
in or out, don't pale or pout we'll all
pay twice for endless doubt
no other, no other, no other prevails
busy painting interest on the ones who'd pass out orders
i think you're too good a shot
i think you're too good a shot
to have never been self-taught
i think you're too good a shot
i think you're too good a shot
to have never been self-taught
i think you're too good a shot
i breathe my whims,
and if these hands don't shake when the air runs thin
the years they came, moved over us both
we barely believe, what never arrived
we let it fall, cause it's falling right now
bells sound out over sunburned hands
i hear them now,
and it takes all of it in,
crossing out where we've been,
hardly shelter from the things you feel you have to pay
brightness over darkness through the threshold through the starkness we forgave
hiccups in the conscious, every moment every fondness we can't save
brightness over darkness just distortion never lost never repaid