Blackbird Raum - Grist Mill lyrics

do not set music to these words the hour is late and there is no song I'd like to hear open wires and not the others, red the wine and black the color the time of the iceworm almost past I'm in sudden trouble breathing under ovens like grist for the mill give them more and more rye in some infinite tithe grist for the mill will I be physically disfigured? will i come to no conclusions? grind the wheat and grind the rye when it happens nothing people try to change and stay the same people try to stay the same and change when it happens nothing when it happens nothing surely this must be a dream a web of sleep still clings to me and I am lost the sun is setting on a deeply stupid prophecy and sends the knock-knees running to the temples I've been drinking mare's milk from a toppled over house gone from strutting like a rooster, to sulking like a louse with a morbid attitude, the mirror does appraise what comprises can be made in the pa**ing of an age we've become such clever swine, in the fitting of our masks the costumes that we cling to and the burdens never asked to tear away the apron of the butcher that you wear the grim determination gone, the fragile system bare for this privilege I would give, all the water on the sun cuz i've been burning tickets like this day would never come (last legs) it's opening it's mouth on us like grist for the mill