Sit back, no song is written It's nothing you thought of Yourself It's just a ghost, came unbidden To this house
This infection gets stronger every year This seed in the water of your tear There is no escaping it
This seed in the water of your tear The way an unborn baby's ear Unfolds in your belly
This infection gets stronger every year This direction of a tear rolling down your cheek And there is no escaping it
There is no escaping The thing that is making It's home in your radio
Bless this tiny alley we have fallen from tall buildings we have fallen through the air Into a garden sweetly smelling of the softest Sleeping flowers now they sit under the sidewalk Now they're waiting for the shining of some future sun to show us All that is your beauty Oh and all that brings you pleasure I could sigh into your hide And say I hope I'm here forever But Black Sheep Boy with your lovers With your list of favorite pillows with your list of missing children With the wall where you drew windows Overlooking hidden gardens Cut apart by jagged mountains Climbing up into the air And crumbling down into a fountain Where the water waits forever Like a quiet distant treasure When you rise up to recover When you leave this tiny alley When you meet me in the garden With your horns all hung with cedar Every spirit brushing past me Brushing past them in the ether Scream all this is window dressing All you are is flimsy curtains Watch you flame up with a word from us And won't know that you're Burning! Burning Burning!
(There's no escaping The thing that is making It's home in your radio
There's no escaping The thing that is making It's home in your radio)
