Behold the drift of a distant sun Cold as my own heart Blind at the edge of no return Every time I dare depart
I believe the myth may illuminate an anchor in the dry weeds At the end of July in a fake fur coat Hoping that your heart still needs me
I concede there's beauty in bubblegum I'm rolling up my sleeves To advertise the new freedom I accept I can't receive
Behold the gift of the distant sun The canyons full of loose bones The nettles and the brambles and the jack bitch boss Thundering down from his throne
