Transcribed by:

Brian Whitman





My eyes won't pretend

I didn't know you were closed

I can smell your breath

Through a freshly painted door

Stand here in your coat

While I pour three more glasses of burgundy

And you can lick the dust from the bottle



All's bricked with books

Ages bricked with words

Each mark has been stained in your honor

Ground shadow staggers restless

From the window cross the candle to the corner

My blood and water's warm as you near me



I am not begging for mercy

I see no love of mercy in you

I am not begging for mercy

I'm only waiting for the sound

Of the morning birds

To send you away



Wax is cooled; hard

Sights is going past the yard

In this house I make more shadows than you

Stand there in your hate

While I drink from the second burgundy

And you can rattle the glass cross your belly



I am not begging for mercy

I see no love of mercy in you

I am not begging for mercy

I'm only waiting for the sound

Of the morning birds

To send you away



I am not begging for mercy

I am not begging for mercy

I'm only waiting for the sound

Of the morning birds

To swallow you