Put your hands behind your back
Lay down on your face
Don’t make any sudden moves
Or I’ll put you in your place
I’ll point my gun at your lovely wife’s head
Feel for the trigger and squeeze it till she’s dead

I’m takin all you have
You stupid stupid man
I don’t wanna hear it
I’ve heard your story a thousand times before

Well I got a story and it goes on and on
About how life is cruel
and you grab what you can before it ends

How long you want to live? Forever?
Without an ending you wouldn’t care about anything
The end is a big joke played on all of us
The end undoes everything you do

Reverses your tenderest acts of love
And my darkest path of ruin

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Rotation by medwardsmusic

Fire wakes me lickin’ my arm
casting monsters behind my restin’ form
hiding out past the docks in the trees
prayin my scent isn’t carried in the breeze

Made it to the city, made a name for myself
call me Isaac Andrew Hamilton, or
call me John Alexander Smith, or
call me anything that you wish

I’ve got an alibi
Just gotta tell some lies

‘s long as I can forget what I know
I’ve no idea how far knowing goes
Through the trails, down the river, to the sea
I’d give anything to stop being me – even me.

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Time to rest, rest your head
Rest in your bed
Time for sleeping, peaceful sleeping
Sleep that rests the soul

Trying to face your mortality
Without the warmth
Without tomorrow ahead
Crossing through the night you will die
Bringing your burden here to release

When you wake, we will say

“Have some juice, some orange juice
Some fresh orange juice
Fresh from orchards
My father’s orchards
From the work of his hands
From the riches of the soil”

Oh my god, will it happen so
That I will lose my eyes?
Lose my ears?
Lose my arms and legs?
To speak without a body?

To move in song?

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oh that i could shake you

you are mine, you are mine
falling asleep at the wheel
we divide, our hands and our minds
we fly straight through the windshield
is this the end, the end of our lives
oh we can’t say for sure
i turn my head to see where you lay
asleep, you’re still asleep

and if we are dead, who will pretend
that this was more than it seemed
that these cars and roads and places we go
couldn’t hold our spirits still

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