Drums

Fire on the sea and in the tides
Fire on every hill and every mountainside
And all day we hear the singing out of
The heavy, heavy rhythms of war

I know the sound and smell of gunshots

Around corners I have nothing to compare you to
(Gunshots)
A tool for which I found I have no use
(Gunshots)
My years of youth end up split into twos
(Gunshots)
Forget touching in homes we touch in bathrooms
(Gunshots)
Backrooms and hallways, all eyes and conversions
(Gunshots)
I would hope this event has no contradiction
(Gunshots)
If I could purge my tongue of all of this condescension
(Gunshots)
If only I wasn't so, so

Blood on the sea and on the tides
Blood on every hill and every mountainside
And all day we fail to see the strength of
The heavy, sweet choked hands we choose to hold

Some people think that the womb
Is a galaxy of bright stars
Some people think its a garden
Planted in the rich earth
To pick a bouquet
But I smell blood

Eating off each other with
Hands and mouths
I don't need any forks with my
Father and my mother
Coughing when we should be
Laughing are we doing
Whatever it is we should be doing?
Walking through Washington D.C. at night?
There are so many ways
I could finish this rhyme
How could I?
I don't even know what to think
No less what to do when I read of...

And when our hands touch it has the force of
Gunshots
We turn away from
Gunshots
We seek refuge within
Gunshots
We know the situation
Gunshots
We know the situation
Gunshots
Gunshots
Gunshots