Chris Walla
It's Unsustainable
I was busy, I was occupiedI was burning the fieldsA wind of black was blowing over meand when the cilia revealed all the ash lining my lungsI heard a song, I heard a whisperingI gave my torch to the flameI counted out the numbers silently a list of places and names that I'd best get back to, at leastwere I soon to find leave or releaseTo sing again, now and thennow, at leastOn to death, and on to dignityon to flowering the graveon to faith, and on to pietyon to sending away all the tools our dynasty yieldsAll these papers and axles and wheelson to quiet, on to silenceon to stillIt's not unsustainableso don't even try to explain me awayWe can make it, lovewe can bend at the kneeswe can fall and still we can recoverIt's not unsustainableDon't say it; it's not unsustainable
From Letras Mania