Can’t believe you’d turn like that carosel
how’s your career progression that sloping pole
dont forget the yield sign the dancing girls reappear.
must of been some kind of sweetener to turn a man
I thought I used to know
the one who can’t now look me in the eyes.
The chapel full of dirty doves a crying man awaiting Signals
that might appear from up above that broken shrine tonight.
Call in the calligraphy to fix the fonts
and with the gutters now gone the water runs
and what was that mouses first profession.
Sing a gospel for the olive trees
sing it as you follow the stream.
The heads that roll beneath the hollows
the vinners on his knees.