not the face of god but
something real
something real
a trailer on fire in some
hopeless stretch of america and
this young girl sleeping inside
hopeless stretch of america and
this young girl sleeping inside
her mother driving away
such a simple act of hatred
and when i tell you i love you
all you hear are the
silences before and after
and when i tell you i love you
all you hear are the
silences before and after
and this is unfair
of course
and probably untrue and so
i say it again
of course
and probably untrue and so
i say it again
i consider the waitresses i've known
who were raped in truck stop parking lots
and the ones who took money
the ones who mistook me for
something more than a starving dog
and what i've never told you is that
my father was left-handed
that this was the fist
that passed judgment
and what i've never told anyone is
when our last fight took place
or what it was about
or how it ended
listen
i understand the need for victory
to be declared
after the last body has been thrown
into its shallow grave
i understand addiction
watched my mother
get on the plane after she got
the last phone call
stood next to her in a windowless room
at two in the morning
while she listened to the doctor
explain the possible futures
while she told him to
turn the machines off
and here i am almost ten years later
with this constant need
to dig up the corpse again and again
here i am with the knowledge that
all fears are magnified in january
the sun is a lie
and my hands feel nothing
and any truths that we claim to know
are best left unspoken
any silences that lie between us
are best left unexplored
now imagine
the canvas unrolled on this dirty floor
and the need to drink
disappeared
imagine the roads all coming
or going
the hills and
whoever we left beyond them
when we ran
imagine the veins filled with poison
and the prayers with anger and
do you see why we laugh
when nothing is funny?
do you know of
any patron saints for this
little girl tied up in a plastic bag
by her father?
tell me you wouldn't stick
a knife in the throat of
any bastard who did this
tell me that justice is
more precious than vengeance
close your eyes and
paint whatever it is you see
who were raped in truck stop parking lots
and the ones who took money
the ones who mistook me for
something more than a starving dog
and what i've never told you is that
my father was left-handed
that this was the fist
that passed judgment
and what i've never told anyone is
when our last fight took place
or what it was about
or how it ended
listen
i understand the need for victory
to be declared
after the last body has been thrown
into its shallow grave
i understand addiction
watched my mother
get on the plane after she got
the last phone call
stood next to her in a windowless room
at two in the morning
while she listened to the doctor
explain the possible futures
while she told him to
turn the machines off
and here i am almost ten years later
with this constant need
to dig up the corpse again and again
here i am with the knowledge that
all fears are magnified in january
the sun is a lie
and my hands feel nothing
and any truths that we claim to know
are best left unspoken
any silences that lie between us
are best left unexplored
now imagine
the canvas unrolled on this dirty floor
and the need to drink
disappeared
imagine the roads all coming
or going
the hills and
whoever we left beyond them
when we ran
imagine the veins filled with poison
and the prayers with anger and
do you see why we laugh
when nothing is funny?
do you know of
any patron saints for this
little girl tied up in a plastic bag
by her father?
tell me you wouldn't stick
a knife in the throat of
any bastard who did this
tell me that justice is
more precious than vengeance
close your eyes and
paint whatever it is you see
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