Sit back

No song is written

It's nothing you thought of Yourself

It's just a ghost

that came unbidden to the 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 its 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 sign 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 favourite 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 valley

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





Escaping the thing that is making its home in your radio