Nunemaker's Parable

There was a wanderer who found his way to God
Or maybe it was Lucifer under some false facade
Broken down and tattered
Compound fractures in his sleeves
Shoe soles nailed together
But he never seemed to bleed

With one desperate push
His poor diaphragm forced out a plea

He said: One home burned down, one fell apart
One met a flood, and one was nothing from the start
Weapons build against me, well they all seem to fail
But weapons built against my home
They always will prevail

So leave me my liver and leave me my skin
Leave me the way all those other homes did
But leave me a soul, only by definition
I don't want to feel anything

My neurons are snapping like cat gut strings
A symphony of agony
I don't wanna hear and I don't wanna sing
I don't wanna breathe incompletely
I am mourning
I am morning
So break me anew

Well, I'll find every sick fuck I can
And I'll make them a deal
With no conscience, I'll make money and
I'll lie and cheat and steal
And that money won't bring happiness
But let me ask what does
'Cause I've found a place, and those sick fucks
Well, they turned it to dust

And if I can't have justice
I might as well join the unjust

The floorboards smelled like lemonade
Prepared for our arrival
The air was clean and crisp
Just like a tonic for survival
Well, I wrote my name in charcoal
On the bathhouse where we cried
So now I'm broken fundamentally
And nobody gets why

So give me what drugs you got, give me your meds
Give me a cocktail to sedate my head
Abandon all hope of my moral salvation
They already took that from me

The sky was an angel of morning's heat
With languid, shiny curls of aquamarine
And when I close my eyes and when I dare to dream
When I think I might shatter completely
I can feel them in my hands
But I can't go back again
My neurons are snapping like cat gut strings
A symphony of agony
I don't wanna hear and I don't wanna sing
I don't wanna breathe incompletely
I am mourning
I am morning
So break me anew

Turns out that the god he found was just a little girl
Sitting on a swingset
Just a little girl
She said "Mister, you look tired
I will let you go, but first
I think that what you're asking for
It just might make things worse"



Credits
Writer(s): Everybody's Worried About Owen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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