Their eyes give them away
Hunted and lost
Squinting against the light
Witnessing the desolation
Of a thousand distinct emotions
And if this is not the worst thing in the world
Surely it must seem that way
From the look in their eyes

The sound of flesh beating flesh
Cuts through the silence in this room
Soft exclamations of bittersweet resignation
Whispering extracted lies
In a thousand tongues of fire
I know it's not the worst thing in the world
Sometimes it seems that way
When I hear the desperation in your voice

Lie now, in fertile fields
Soft, misty wet with rain
Swat bees in clover
Exquisite sensation
Of my every thought
Melting in the brutal heat
Of the difference between
How things are and how they seem