Folded Claws
Robert Pollard
Three steps inside
Where the ageless engraver inscribes what now I know
Ink from the rose
For the eulogies written on pages
Now seem gone
And come to us down from them
High praise to backlash
Heal my head
So scream the masses
Heal my head
Heal my head
I come out shrivilized though not quick to find her
Try just sit still and to know her
These aren't the faces of hostages
You can't just tell
Shaking the length of the dream
Sorting through levels between
Hanging around