The Devil, In Everything

The orphans stopped singing
Just a whistling through the dust and the smoke
There are no crowds in the streets
No signs of life left no more
Oh the fields are all parched down
Do you know what that means?
I picked up the dust and you counted the grains
Still we don't know what that means
Maybe we don't even care
A stench of perfume in the air

This runs deeper than you think
Deeper than a sea trench
You know we could be anything but friends
Ain't got our problems sorted out
Still we run off at the mouth
Oh the horror: so well thought out
A scent of ammonia in the air
Breathe it in
Mask it out

There's a pattern to the sound of the falling rain
A structure in the way how starving wolves behave
There's a house on fire and it's burning down
And so it goes

I'd like to be more dramatic
Don't tell me that I am
I'd like to be more aesthetic
Than with this crooked chest
This is something like self-sabotage
To distract me from what is all too real

Like the excuses we make up for
The ones who allegedly claim to love you
No more use for moral codes
Never enough salt in our wounds
Trace back their blood stains
Through the thickest snow
Watch it all burn down
Through the safety of your phone
Nothing more than privilege
To be outraged instead of being ashamed

There's a pattern to the sound of the falling rain
A structure in the way how starving wolves behave
There's a house on fire and it's burning down
And so it goes