we line up to join the parade
but our elbows are stuck in the mud again
and our houses have all flown away
Unconscious of echoing tragedy
there's a song that we've thrown from corpse to corpse
in the fleshes that we carry with us
it's written in caches of serpentine (who do you turn to?)
in tunnels and grey pigeons nests (who do you turn to?)
treads of the tank searchlight the street
scratched of the lists ash and the heat
throwing the kitchen knives off of the roof
but when they look up to the house-tops there's no one to shoot
treads of the tank searchlight the street
scratched of the lists ash and the heat
but we broke through the curfew and into the street
if you let them take anything they'll take everything
they laughed when my aunt won the lottery
they laughed when the cattle cars came
they shot me for stealing a crust of bread
but they gave me a loaf when I begged
there's a song that we've thrown from corpse to corpse
in the fleshes that we carry with us
it's written in caches of serpentine (who do you turn to?)
in tunnels and grey pigeons nests (who do you turn to?)
treads of the tank searchlight the street
scratched of the lists ash and the heat
throwing the kitchen knives off of the roof
but when they look up to the house-tops there's no one to shoot
treads of the tank searchlight the street
scratched of the lists ash and the heat
but we broke through the curfew and into the street
if you let them take anything they'll take everything