Album: A Bell Is a Cup Until It Is Struck
In this public place
Pigeons move busily
Through the contents
Of a man's life
In this public place
His last mortal remains
Reflect a private lake
In this public place
Lies fly in formation
Candid fiction spreads its wings
It's deceptive at this angle
Does truth dance?
Does truth sing?
The private hedge p*ssers
In anxious alleys
The village boy-wide-men
With a game on their hands
Wait for the sign
That will take them to Heaven
Wait for the sign
Only they understand
In this public place
A carved tree
Burst through an atheist's heart
And broken promises
Drifted into the shape of footprints
In this public place
Lies fly in-formation
Candid fiction spreads its wings