Late March, Death MarchReviewed by Atlantic on Mar 19Rating:
LATE MARCH, DEATH MARCH
I cursed in church again and the handclaps all fell quiet I watched a statue of you cry A candle is blown, we start the black march home Through a stale and silent night There's a funeral in your eyes, and a drunk priest at your side Staggering sermons never wash No reproach from a lit touch paper, both Got stubborn marrow in bastard bones Can we just get home, sleep this off? Throw some 'sorry's and then do it all again? Folded arms clutch homocide The bridge is out and the river's high This is a March death march March, Death! March! There isn't a God so I'll save my breath Pray silence for the road ahead In this March death march March, Death! March! I went too far And as we walk through an hour long pregnant pause No grain of truce can be born My bridge is burned and perhaps we'll shortly learn It was arson all along Can we just get home, sleep this off? Throw some 'sorry's and then do it all again? Live Bulver said, less heart and more head So un-furrow that brow, un-plant those seeds of doubt Folded arms clutch homicide The bridge is out and the river's high This is a March death march March, Death! March! There isn't a God so I'll save my breath Pray silence for the road ahead In this March death march March, Death! March! Dead balloons and withered flowers Sorry cannot save me now In this March death march March, Death! March! I went too far.