Passerine

Like carillon bells, the house of Augustus rings With the echoing hymn of my fellow passerine, they took to it Like a fox to a burrow, like an eagle to an aerie And my god, it's getting hard to even hum a single thing, 'cause You were the song that I'd always sing You were the light that the fire would bring But I can't shake this feeling that I was only Pushing the spear into your side again See, my birds of a kind, the more and more are looking like Centurions than any little messiah (messiah) As I prune my feathers like leaves from a vine I find that we have fewer and fewer in kind, but My palms and fingers still reek of gasoline From throwing fuel to the fire of that Greco-Roman dream Purifying the holy rock to melt the gilded seams It don't bring me relief, no, it don't bring me nothing that You were the song that I'd always sing You were the light that the fire would bring But I can't shake this feeling that I was only Pushing the spear into your side again and again and again When he comes a knocking at my door What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? When the cold wind rolls in from the north What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord) When he comes a knocking at my door What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord) When the cold wind rolls in from the north What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord) When he comes a knocking at my door (at my door) What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord) When the cold wind rolls in from the north (from the north) What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord?