Lyrics
They estimate the falling sun and the Orphists
They contemplate the setting sun and the followers of Orpheus.
Plight stimulated no one.
Difficult situations failed to inspire anyone.
So call me on no sleep with just a little something
So contact me when you haven't slept much, with a small reminder.
To remind us what to do:
To jog our memories about what needs to be done:
If you run, run like hell, and remember there's history;
If you decide to flee, do it swiftly, and bear in mind the historical context;
And if they don't believe you, just send them back to me.
And if they doubt your words, simply refer them back to me.
Because they can't deny.
Because they cannot reject it.
They just have to see that
They must witness and acknowledge that
The roots and the ruins are the same thing.
The origins and the remains are essentially the same entity.
I often hear the new poetry from your
I frequently hear innovative poetry emanating from your
Scratchy throat at quarter-after-three.
Hoarse throat around fifteen minutes past three.
That's when I know I owe this to you,
That's when I realize I am indebted to you,
As autumn owes the trees,
Just as fall owes its beauty to the trees,
With their roots still strong,
With their roots remaining robust,
From the ruins of some stray seed.
Emerging from the wreckage of some wayward seed.
Look out for guns.
Beware of firearms.
Look out for girls,
Be cautious of relationships,
And other stories that could tear apart our world.
And other narratives that could dismantle our world.
And no matter what you do, I will look out for you.
And regardless of your actions, I will watch over you.
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