There Is A Drought Lyrics

There is

There is a drought

In the middle of the vessel

That I have learned to call my own

Three crows sit on my skull

They sing their hymns as we walk home slow

There is a drought

In the middle of the vessel

That I have learned to call my own

Three crows sit on my skull

They sing their hymns as we walk home slow

There is a drought

In the middle of the vessel

That I have learned to call my own

Three crows sit on my skull

They sing their hymns as we walk home slow

I go where they don't know me

Smile wide, straight spine, white lies

They'll never know what they can't touch, can't see

I go slow like oil on a hot road

I'll blister on the pavement

Before I ever say yes sir, yes sir again

I've gnawed the root of the yew tree

I've swallowed down the river Yuba

But nothing can turn the dust that runs

In my guts back into mud cause

There is a drought

in the middle of the vessel

that I have learned to call my own

Three crows sit on my skull

They sing their hymns as we walk home slow

I have mangled and molded my body to fit

What would make them strains their necks

Praying each time that they would break

I drink their swill and I sing their songs

But by the time we reach the dawn

My jaw hangs low and long

On the bank of the nearest lake

I suckled on the teat of a creek

I nursed myself on the morning dew

But no tributary does the trick

And this I knew, I knew, I knew for

There is a drought

In the middle of the vessel

That I have learned to call my own

Three crows sit on my skull

They sing their hymns as we walk home slow

On the tongue attached to this body

There's one plain need

To swallow everything that broke me

'Till I'm all shrapnel, pain and greed

'Till then I'll smile like them and sip their wine

With a parched throat and a bit tongue

I'll ask them about their jobs, about their wives

And I'll guzzle down their tedium cause

There is a drought

In the middle of the vessel

That I have learned to call my own

Three crows sit on my skull

They sing their hymns as we walk home slow

There is a drought

In the middle of the vessel

That I have learned to call my own

Three crows sit on my skull

They sing their hymns as we walk home slow