Dead Flowers
Take to the woods and walk amongst the dead flower heads Do you pretend you are alone or pretend you have company? There amongst the forgotten roads that lead to gorges and plains Would you have followed leaders that would have discovered them for mapping purposes Maybe ultimately crawling into their tents to cut their throats or make love to them Unreasonably meeting the voices that are deep and come into your dreams You become jealous of the seasons and jealous of the sliding clouds Nobodies fault and nobodies victim you fall into the mindset That nobody will call your name at night, nobody will miss you And I don't know if you should write autobiographies dedicated to the street Wearing gritted smiles on one end with worn out shoes on the other But you are the son with the golden hair, you are the son with the broad shoulders I'm not going to sing the song that is about your life, about your voice About the times you have fallen behind And with all the lett...