Sing words; that the body of time
Gives to eloquent mind it's due,
Sing words; the creation of bones that
The body's own day shines through.
Sing time; that the world not catch fire
While we're treading it's rhythmed core,
Sing time; that your lies and your ages
Are the sign of a closing door.
Sing bones; we'll put up a big stone
To show you when your last days are done,
Sing bones; and your loved ones will gaze
At that last place you lost the sun.
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 5:25 PM UTC
Sing words; that the body of time
Gives to eloquent mind it's due,
Sing words; the creation of bones that
The body's own day shines through.
Sing time; that the world not catch fire
While we're treading it's rhythmed core,
Sing time; that your lies and your ages
Are the sign of a closing door.
Sing bones; we'll put up a big stone
To show you when your last days are done,
Sing bones; and your loved ones will gaze
At that last place you lost the sun.
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