Torn Between These Feelings

Come and we will go,
like birds in the night
who huddle in the trees
our bodies all a shiver
in the canopy of leaves.

Come and we will go,
we will go, we will go,
where the north wind blows cold
and you won't have to hold
your own, all alone.

And if there are roads,
be they rotten and old
I can't find the strength within myself, anymore
to put one foot in front of the other
in the mindless absurdity of it all, and so...

I am the bottom of this boat
I will hold you all afloat while you
are drunk and drink the air
beneath the clotting ink of night
regret tugging you out with the tide.

And so it goes, it always
it goes, and this song is old, yeah
I borrowed the notes.
I borrowed the letters from some secret code
to try and show...to show...I don't know.

When did I become so old
my fingers gnarled, scarred and cold
and these eyes blue have drained
the color from your painted face
and far away.

You are not this thing inside of me.
Not my blood, my bones, my skin.
You are an element which exists
completely independent
of me and mine.

You are the weather as it scraped the sea
peeled back the skin of the falling oak tree
the gather of thunder high in the sky
the force of a hurricane,
the heat of july.

you can do as you please
take the fruit out of knowledge
make it rotten, diseased.
but you still shine,
with the same force that dried up the sea.

And so it goes, and it goes, and it goes
I am no revolution
have not broken the mold
I am just passing through
on my way to same old, same old, same old.