Birds Falling Out Of The Sky

The world is full of loss: a ward, a furnace lining
Heart stuffed with ashes, a carousel
Are you ever really there are you always fucking scared?
And there’s no audience here, stop crying
The moon is beautiful and I want to see you hope
Where am I buried
It’s okay if you didn’t know what to do and the world didn’t have room for you
We make so much from how little we have
It’s hard to imagine growing old and contented
Shouldn’t take the form of a song
The landscape changes every fucking dayaching everyday
It’s okay if you didn’t know what to do
And if the world didn’t have room for you
We make so much from how little we have
The barometers of freedom are mostly ads
And the language is caught up in everything I don’t want for us

Do you see your trauma in a narrative? I wish you didn’t yeah
I wish you’d stop naming it
Putting borders around it
Branding it
Weaponizing it
I miss wanting to go outside
I don’t want to do this
Hope