Embody no fantasy
Nevertheless there is unrest in the streets
There's weight in accord
But if the bomb is at our feet its too late
My heart's pestle lingers
So much to vie for. so much to die for
There's poison in the water
There's land being claimed
There's miasma in the breeze, and my skin scalds
Now its at every turn
The needles stuck on scared, and keeps cutting back to fright
With no blood tarrying in my veins, I'm echoing the same shock
Will there be a choir singing at the spire?
Will there be a hand straining down to wrench me out?
Is there help bound?
Too rigid to want it, mother, I need it