Skunkhour

Broken free...almost
Prettier than that butterfly i watch you head off through this night sky
The thought of you lingers like the smoke that's drifting from my fingers
While I sit, i see, there's a tree outside my room
My face reflected in the pain of this moon
Outside the cold rain cleanses my soul,
Whole, the distance between the rooms of my thoughts of us all
Sitting in that room sometimes i get to thinking about myself
Love, where does it come from?
For days on end i would plead to the moon
Where can i find someone to strip my flesh back bare to where the word begins,
Strip my flesh back bare to the wind that violates my skin

Washing away, under the sun, I vanish in the street heat
Melting on tar, lost in a wave of cut-throat urban values
Looking for some, getting too few, breathing fumes and pipe-dreams
Sliding, Holding...

We're up to our necks in it
We're up to our necks in it

Walking the streets of this big shitty gritty city
On a day when i feel like I'm living too close to the big electric light bulb in the sky
Shy, the rats with wings mingle about my feet
When i come to meet a man, a forsaken man
He is alone, he has no home, no family here
No brother, no mother, no sister, no other
He cries to me, he is tired
Where does he send his message?
To what, to whom, to why, to where does he send it?
What force is going to mend it?
If we wished we could help this man and our backs would not break
But hypocrisy only leaves us constantly bended
He wishes to end it

The progress that eats the soul of the past
Demolished, lost and rebuilt
Dehumanised, regimented
When nine-to-five's the doctrine
Give me the sky red behind the grey
Buildings framed in a sunset
I'm Sliding, holding x2

We're up to our necks in it
We're up to our necks in it