The black and white is clear to see. Its shades of gray are puzzling me. Shades of feeling like my bodys buried deep. Half asleep, half asleep. . Its a very deep hole with very steep sides.
When I asked you how you'd been. You told me you were fine. But I knew it was a lie. Because I could see the lines. Of tiredness on your brow. And the tension in your eyes.
Something came along. And stopped me right in my tracks. I'd tell you what it was. But I can't be exact. . But it filled me with strength. And it held me intact.
Keep the weatherman sweet. Then begin sweeping the driveway. News is that the heats. Coming in, Thursday or Friday. . Now Im a little slow to see. How weathermans words are gonna satisfy me.
Fires burn, turning into dust. What was precious, what was pretty paradise. And fires turn, burning to the ground. What was healthy, what was holy, what was life.