The Hobble
Quelle: Spotify
Tall times not flexible
The bitter taste of hate and ash
Shatter the endless fear
Becon the trepid tear
So silent in passing
A dawn whose breath is spent
In this I see you
Gulls rise in solemn instinct
Terror clings to fatal cliffs
Against the depress ocean pull
And though I scream my mouth has no rewards
Sounds that climb, sounds that die
The fate of words against the sky
In this I hear you
I don't know why you offer
Like a lamb being led to the slaughter
You push and scream and falter
A sacrifice on the altar
I cannot give you comfort
The time and lines that distort
It's not your way of being
It's what you are not seeing
I don't know why you offer
Waist high in all the slaughter
The time we live must falter
The silent faces on the altar
Why you offer
Our crisis moves in huddle hobble
Deserving spit thin faces stare
To know this place and still disagree
To tempt the temple that was always she
The sentence kills the inner drive
Roads to see but not to thrive
In this I know you
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