The Raw And Searing Flesh

I never want to see you

In the raw and searing flesh

I don't ever want to hear you

Singing softly to the dead

I never want to feel your skin

Running warm along my side

I never want to sink that way again

It would be easier to die

To die

I'm tending the pyres

Of my frustration

Burning leaves on buried trees

Kneeling in to rake the ashes

I'm embering, I've smoldered out

My hands are free, my lungs are proud

Your forgiveness is a fading fiction

Your forgiveness is a fading fiction

These flames have never burned so high

I won't be staring in your eyes

I'm trying hard to remember

The way the smoke drifts through the air

We'll all be dead, come November

Four months out of every year

Every year, every year, every year, every year

I won't be staring your eyes

I won't be staring your eyes

In your eyes every year