March

Overhead is a bird, it cries but I don't know its name

No comprehension of a friendly word, the vermin all the same

Old rain falls over the stones, forever may it run

Take a picture on your cellular phone, but nature's never done

I'm beginning to believe what you told me about the future

I'm beginning to believe someday that Spring is gonna come

I'm beginning to believe in the maggots beneath the wounds we suture

I'm beginning to believe that these old hands wont always be this numb

What a dangerous thought to be trapped inside your head

Start the March with a figment of you, come out of it undead