| This heart singing out to me sings alone
|
| This world and empty room and it’s falling into line
|
| They say just one will pass and one will leave no mark or burn
|
| This heart is singing on and on again
|
| This heart a wielding hammer ready to pound
|
| This world already defined
|
| Maybe you don’t even know
|
| Maybe you don’t even know
|
| This wheelless motion will not define me
|
| This softly singing madness is singing out aloud
|
| This awful and unholy awful man
|
| Inside your empty hand
|
| And it’s eating out the worm
|
| It’s odd and it’s hard to hail
|
| Or maybe you don’t even know
|
| Maybe you don’t know
|
| This eye-line wandering ragged doll
|
| This one leg pony pulling out the plow
|
| This wondering what will be my own
|
| And if nothing else I’ll seek to find
|
| That hairy old delight
|
| A naive dark night
|
| This heart is singing to you
|
| Singing I was
|
| This all a weight on me
|
| Maybe you don’t even know
|
| Maybe you don’t even know |