To the fickle let it drop We have the power to sustain Like the motor needs the food To bring more power to our brain Now we bought it back So let me make it clean Since our mother's gone, it always Seems to rain - And the boose, and the friends and the party Never ends! No excuse for behavior than no one can defend We reflect in the quiet Times inside our heads And get thanks from our children Tuck tight sweet leap in their beds Inside their heads Trickling water dripping down Slow like some rivers without a sound Passed many times since you've been on my side I'm still here, but I keep you deep inside
With my two hands across the water With my two feet in the sea My fear is for my daughters, But good god will show them me Take our lambs off to the slaughter, Take their lives so perfectly Like your bricks are filled with mortar Cast your wisdom to the brede
Cracks? in fall lines Nyc talks to me Slow like some rivers on our mother's tv Nyc she speaks to me in tongues Keeps me to her breast, pumps air into my lungs
With my two hands across the water With my two feet in the sea My fear is for my daughters, But good god will show them me Take our lambs off to the slaughter, Take their lives so perfectly Like your bricks are filled with mortar Cast your wisdom to the brede (X2)