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Sing It To The Ground
She said, “don't the growing fires look pretty in the night?”
I said, “They're getting closer as ash graced our heads like halos glowing white.”
“I'd like to stay longer,” she replied.
We sat and watched the city set the world alight.
I'm lying sick in bed
Nursing the demons out of this tired head
Ruminating on every last word she said
And running down the paths to which she led
Everything I learned and everything I knew
Put to test in one sickly afternoon
Felt the gardens and felt the sound
Sang it to the sky and sang it to the ground
Sing your sweet.
Sing your sweet.
What towering structures scrape the sky?
What fires made all these rivers run dry?
Glowing lights block the stars from sight.
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And all the grass dies.
What trees did these leaves forget?
Left which branches held high?
And forgot what boughs that the seeds might beget?
And left arms pointed to some fragile sky?
There's going to be fire in this town
There's going to be blood across the ground
There's going to be some sickly dying sounds
There's going to be some hateful birds flying 'round
Sing your sweet.
Sing your sweet.
The birds don't fly like they used to.
The flowers don't grow like they used to.
The stars don't shine like they used.
The waves don't crash like they used to
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