Blood on the rocks Fire in the sky A crack in the cloud where the misshapen moon is Alone again or A piece of the whole Following home from the beat of the music
You live for the city Die for the city Where the bourgeoisie are a pink sea of humans Positioned above Evading the fog A great white animal everywhere, breathing
Wringing the cracks out of the fingers Folding them back into the murky water Pinching the flesh free from the bruising Pondering on this life and how we use it Or abuse it
Timber and tide Creep through the night A slow black crawl from the sleeping sirens Modesty wrapped Till we do the collapse A bitter retreat into the heat of pleasure
Wringing the cracks out of the fingers Folding them back into the murky water Pinching the flesh free from the bruising Pondering on this life and how we use it Or abuse it
There may be more, there may be more But at the side of the road You'll find a ghost Evading the call Of tortured voices
