I saw a white-haired child, staring out through hollow grey eyes I saw men that come to early ends, men who flicker, dim, and die I saw a kerosene skyline from the suburbs of the city on a hill I heard the clatter of the coin and the yawning of the few that have their fill And the sun, it is a blister, rising like the dead I drag my shadow behind me, and I drag my body to the edge of my bed
With my palms pressed to my eyes, I pray this one last time If you're someone else I might love you still, but as it is we're done Oh and you, you will not dig a hole in me You will not chop down my tree Or hold me under the water No and you, you will not dig a hole in me You will not chop down my tree Or hold me under the water