Now It's Overhead Follow

When you are balancing
the leaves on a backyard tree
leaning over the railing you are standing on
All the blood that has gone to your head
disagrees with the bricks that its spilling on.

You awaken to words not ready to hear.

The dogs put to sleep,
your brother no longer is here.
But Thanksgiving is coming
and you have such a wonderful scar, dear.

When you are jumping out of your sensitive skin
for seventeen years shivering only everyday
from the wood shops, and fig trees
and fingers gone missing
secretly strange.
Your balance has vanished,
you wake on concrete in a daze.
While you were unconscious,
the quiet ones crowded the stage.

When you are choking on fire
you are breathing the south
infront of your friends house too late.
All the ashes are flying beside her tonight
uncovering everything.
All the sickness built up in your body
over so final and suddenly.
Back-sliding through tunnels of light,
come alive while putting your life to sleep.

You awaken to words not ready to hear
unrecognizably, perfectly clear

But Thanksgiving is coming
And you have such a wonderful scar, dear.
Thanksgiving is coming,
And you have such a wonderful scar.