at the center of the world
there's a statue of a girl
she is standing near a well
with a bucket bare and dry
i went and looked her in the eyes
and she turned me into sand
this clumsy form that i despise
it scattered easy in her hand
and came to rest upon a beach
with a million others there
we sat and waited for the sea
to stretch out so that we could disappear
into the endlessness of blue
into the horror of the truth
see, we are far less than we knew
yeah, we are far less than we knew
but we knew what we could taste
girls found honey to drench our hands
the men cut marble to mark our graves
saying, we'll need something to remind us
of all the sweetness that has passed through us
(fresh sangria and lemon tea)
the priests dressed children for choir
(white-robed small voices praise him)
but found no joy in what was sung
the funeral had begun
in the middle of the day
when you drive home to your place
from that job that makes you sleep
back to the thoughts that keep you awake
long after night has come to claim
any light that still remains
in the corner of the frame
that you put around her face
two pills just werent enough
the alarm clock's going off
but you're not waking up
this isnt happening, happening, happening, happening, happening
it is
