Take my sword from the slaughter.
|
Melt it down into vapor, and my armor, too.
|
I hear hot blood flap and flutter
|
from your temple to shoulder,
|
and all through you.
|
|
When you hold on to me it isn't easy.
|
When you hold on to me isn't fair.
|
But when there's no key you find me there.
|
|
I'm turning white, I'm leaves of paper.
|
Turn my hands from this labor and lift me through.
|
|
When you hold onto me it isn't easy,
|
but you should hold on to me.
|
It isn't fair, but when there's no key you find me there.
|
|
And kids get lost, lambs out wandering.
|
And bigger, blacker things come calling
|
from outside a tiny garden somebody once laid their hearts on.
|
And kids get lost, and kids get broken.
|
And their diaries get found and opened.
|
And their legs get led astray,
|
and then they lie inside some secret place
|
where the sun looks in the open ceiling.
|
And kids grow up, and kids stop feeling
|
kids, and feel adults, and face away.
|
|
But in last love dreams,
|
the lost and passed out of this world are softly sighing.
|
They're trying to decide if they should leave the things that keep them crying.
|
And some will rise and keep on living with open eyes, with minds forgiven.
|
|
The river's flowing is arrested
|
and resumed after they've blessed it
|
over and over and over, and over and
|
over and over, and over again.
|
(It's over.)
|
|
-----------------
|
Last Love Song For Now
|
Okkervil River |