House

People feel they fear less fear
Enclosed by the nameless, I feel
Less fearful. So disconnected with death that we don't
Even try to stop it
From the easy wide, wide
Rooms we inhabit.
They've lost most of their words and
All of their teeth, and its the
Worst when our lows come
From the easy wide, wide rooms we inhabit,
But that is

Not. Not. Not.
Of any larger consequence...
No that is
Not. Not. Not.
Of any larger consequence...
No that is
Not. Not. Not.
Of any larger consequence,
No that is
Not of, it's not of, it's not of
Any larger
Consequence...

These scavengers disgust us, but we
Rely on their work, even the ones
With their claws stuffed into shirt sleeves, they are
Capital cops making
It by their teeth, for the luxury
Houses
Of their higher ups, lower laurels...
Big schemes

And empty skeletons ride on the bus to me,
They want
To steal
From my shoestrings
And I know its odd, but I
Think it's all they see...

Well,
Things are getting dire while the
Most of those liars
Lie for their dinners, that's how
They see it- but feasting on
The bones of their fellows, their
Color-blind eyes can't see...

They walk tight
Through their shoe-shine, growing
Discomfort in their face lines, they didn't
Know why they
Didn't want to see us
March by, run by...

Drive at the bars that keep the world
From going black, in their
Green and gold visions, they're
Living on the red in what they eat, on the
Red in what they eat, the dirt in their words
Came from someone else's living room floor;
Not a parlor, father, it's a work wife and
Not an estate, but somehow you're both
Looming

And miniscule, you're quite
Uncomfortable with these ratio rations
Of square feet
To your body, cross your
Ankles, sink your weight, your
Disgust can't hide what you
Use it to disguise, it's not a
Parlor, father, just the squalor
Of someone else's living room floor
And underneath even that...

There are leaves scattered across the wood of my table,
And i can't
Think in the early morning
If I've stayed up late...
They must be infatuated with
All the things that could be wrong,
And all the see is their other; but I don't think so,
No.
I don't think so-
I don't think so-
I don't think so,
No.



Credits
Writer(s): Laura Jean Staples, Nathan Colby Curlee, Wesley Sterling Mauldin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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