The Killing Song


balloons are bursting

and the broken tops

of crutches lay scattered

in the street 

and this metro ocean

of filthy air

turns into a ballroom

for grocery bags 


(chorus)


and the downward lines

of the dangling receivers

remind me of

sad past conversations 

so i lie in bed

and watch the clouds migrate

as i listen to the song

my home creates

from the ticking of the clock

to the gurgle and hiss

of the radiator

an informal duet 


i fear the loss

and i fear regret

unanswered questions

the future the dark

do you have faith?

do you feel weak?

are you making up rules

to fill your emptiness? 


(chorus)


x2