Into The Trees

Tell me when did I sign up for this?
Tell me another name for this servitude
Lost in the streets of your adopted hometown
Where the spring comes late
And the smell of damp earth never leaves your clothes
Out of the triangle you can see the far flowers
you can see paw prints in the snow
When your head is filled with rhyme and nonsense
where you sit beneath the elm
And you talk to the shadow about the truth
About being drunk on a farm of terror
And you can hear a drum in the distance
But it means nothing
It means nothing
Like an apology from America
Or an acorn in Canada
So lets not pull the teeth of Sydney Bay
Like the thread that you use to tie around your finger
Remembering French phrases on the piano at night
We cant see beyond the triangle
We know the algebra, we know the course
But the lyrics have been washed from the bay's beach
And we can only mumble and move our mouths
Along with the guitarists actions
Along with the governor and the mayor's bell
The cracks in the dried clay are wide enough to spit into
While the hand clapping savage owns half the town
He will save us all when we fall from church
And I hope you leave your kitchen window open
For Achilles to crawl into
So he can sharpen your sword and polish your shield
So he can comb your hair while you sleep through dawn
You will awaken with new scars
New scars that you trace with your fingers
As you listen to the drum in the distance
And the trees with their great webbed curtains
Dragging in the rain
Will whisper to you as you walk through the grey light
Fingers holding up darkened curve
And warming softened bend
Your head is filled with confusion but you know which way to go
Mumbling and holding the key
Every step you hold the image of ash and silver
But Autumn is here as you look out of the formula
And you can see the flowers far away
You can hear the last of the birds as they fly into the trees