Living a life for all these selfish reasons
love, lust, blood as it must be passed on
wondering why we ever felt this way
sitting on logs watching the world go by
populace of sixty, two by two,
until done in their homes through the night
i'm dying if you're dead, I'll be flesh for the bones in your bed
beside, if we ever find

"Don't you want to talk?"
I said,
caught you whispering something
you'd rather waste your breath
reclusive screaming your spit at the world

Though in the future come we stand here breathing
looking in mirrors we don't know how we own
giving all our passion to day
light, away in exchange for the length we
once before jeered and despised

"I love you, but you're quiet,"  
I said
You'd rather be dead than alive
If I fell through earth to hear you
speak once more and stayed there
I doubt it would be a surprise