Slowly breaking through
the combs and cobwebs clasped in you
and sowing stairs into
everyday and other's shoes
The bent and burnt salute,
to hear their song you must forget
they're mute
they're you
II : inn
It seems it fell and split in two
and found a way of naming you
and though the sound of what you're called
will break the tongue by which it's told
In seams it fell and lit in you
and found a way of counting you
IIIa : út
draw one last breath
i'll turn my back,
uproot those vines around
my fogbound legs
lest all these thoughts
be blood and windfall
stuck behind eyes as years
curl up sallow and small
from every branch
it hangs and clings
to every blackened bone
howling
in the rising winds:
IIIb
(la la la, la la la, la la la la)
stand stillborn, i'm waking
it sings to me, its lilt
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