Minute Song: Show
July 17, 2008
We raise up the dead
Our footfalls stir up dust of things
We couldn't give up yet
Your name hangs off my lips like a half-lit cigarette
and after all this time
we still couldn't say it
say it
You show up all bright eyes
You show up all bright eyes
You show up all bright eyes
You show up all bright eyes
We raise up the dead
It hangs fat coiled between our tongues
You give away the game, my friend
the game, my friend
we raise up the dead
and one of these days
we finally might acknowledge it
acknowledge it
Posted by Olga at 4:36 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
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