The collected breaths of mutes

And all our silent exhalations

Where we should've put words

Or words we had no one to tell

Emptied from clouds like clearing horns spit valves

Coming back to us now

To remind us what we meant to say

Or that we meant to say something



Coming down and dying

In one giant quiet

On the streets and cars

Huzzled like jewels in girls' hair

On the fake wool collar of my bomber jacket

And on my glasses and feet



Cut 'em deep and weap out loud

Just dust and just a hair in your mouth

You drink and think you're tonguin' something to shout

But it's just dust and just a hair in your mouth



And now these empty breaths reflect

The feedback of headlights

Push leaves and coffee cups

To lower altitudes and gutters

Rain is confession weather

And we become booths of prayer if we let us



And now these empty breaths reflect

The feedback of headlights

Push leaves and coffee cups

To lower altitudes and gutters

Rain is confession weather

And we become booths of prayer if we let us