Till the Morning

When I get off the train and I crawl in your bed The past rolls away A lifetime of dread travels through all of the fables I've read and they don't come back until the morning If I knew where my mind went tucked beneath your thighs I'd go there more often I'd never arise Like the straw man collector your words hypnotize But I won't check my pockets till the morning Your lips they surround me in a halo of dreams They show me things my eyes never could've seen Like the tombstone raider who shined on Gallali Whose candle burnt brightly till the morning The law of God and man is in a state of disrepair Shallow is the grave, its headstone bare The long forgotten child of our lady of air Who couldn't hear the robins sing that morning My fingers they touch you and fill your eyes with song My spirit tells my body that my spirit don't belong But the right is far more righteous in a world of wrong And the night is pitch black until the morning The saints who are slaughtered are alive like you or me Their prisons were the world—their home eternity Their bodies bound and beaten but their spirit proud and free But are we left crippled in our mourning? When I get off the train and I crawl in your bed The past rolls away A lifetime of dread travels through all of the fables I've read and they don't come back until the morning