In the early morning sun
she was dead and I was alone
ignoring each other and sizing up the world
but I knew we were both scared
she was holding a knife
caked with my blood
and I held my own blade
painted with hers
we both saw the holes
in our own backs,
but I was blind to hers
and she couldn't see mine.
And the sky turns red again
and the light around our skins turn blue
and the indigo children burn like a beacon
and I'm terrified and guilty and
she can't see them,
she won't see me,
she cannot even see herself.
What do we do when old wounds won't heal?
When you cannot help but pick old scabs?
She gets out the knife, saws into her skin
how deep will she go just for adreniline?
What do we do when old wounds won't heal?
When you cannot help but pick old scabs?
I get out the knife, and I damn my hand,
with the hungry blade to my chest, I let it dig in.
Now as the orange-red sun climbs above the horizon
I know we're all in for stranger days,
standing on the porch with my blood hound
and a dark damsal in her own distress beside me.
I cry out into the morn,
but a sea of mundane chatter drowns me out
dark grays clouds move on in,
swallowing the sky,
ready to wash away all my doubt.
And we pick the scabs to keep the memory
of these fragile and emotional bodies
and we cut the skin to feel the life bleeding away,
to remember what we have,
but there's something in the tiniest space
between skin that I want to experience
something that before it all falls away I
want to just let go and sink within,
because I remember it all before,
the dead place, the reason that I'm here.
I remember their dead eyes, and I can
see the storm coming; I know what I'm
fighting against.
I just want a taste of this,
my damsal, I just want to remember
the sadness of the loss while it's still
here this time around, before it's like
that ancient dead place, that ancient yesterday.
Help me remember what I'm fighting for.
Just between two old souls.
Just between two blues.
Between me and you before the dawn of today.
Help me remember before the red sun rises
and burns the comfort of the dark into
the nightmare of this coming age.
Help me remember before
I give into the Gray.
she was dead and I was alone
ignoring each other and sizing up the world
but I knew we were both scared
she was holding a knife
caked with my blood
and I held my own blade
painted with hers
we both saw the holes
in our own backs,
but I was blind to hers
and she couldn't see mine.
And the sky turns red again
and the light around our skins turn blue
and the indigo children burn like a beacon
and I'm terrified and guilty and
she can't see them,
she won't see me,
she cannot even see herself.
What do we do when old wounds won't heal?
When you cannot help but pick old scabs?
She gets out the knife, saws into her skin
how deep will she go just for adreniline?
What do we do when old wounds won't heal?
When you cannot help but pick old scabs?
I get out the knife, and I damn my hand,
with the hungry blade to my chest, I let it dig in.
Now as the orange-red sun climbs above the horizon
I know we're all in for stranger days,
standing on the porch with my blood hound
and a dark damsal in her own distress beside me.
I cry out into the morn,
but a sea of mundane chatter drowns me out
dark grays clouds move on in,
swallowing the sky,
ready to wash away all my doubt.
And we pick the scabs to keep the memory
of these fragile and emotional bodies
and we cut the skin to feel the life bleeding away,
to remember what we have,
but there's something in the tiniest space
between skin that I want to experience
something that before it all falls away I
want to just let go and sink within,
because I remember it all before,
the dead place, the reason that I'm here.
I remember their dead eyes, and I can
see the storm coming; I know what I'm
fighting against.
I just want a taste of this,
my damsal, I just want to remember
the sadness of the loss while it's still
here this time around, before it's like
that ancient dead place, that ancient yesterday.
Help me remember what I'm fighting for.
Just between two old souls.
Just between two blues.
Between me and you before the dawn of today.
Help me remember before the red sun rises
and burns the comfort of the dark into
the nightmare of this coming age.
Help me remember before
I give into the Gray.
