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...And The Revelation.

Bryan John Appleby

I saw a white-haired child, staring out through hollow grey eyes
I saw men that come to early ends, men who flicker, dim, and die
I saw a kerosene skyline from the suburbs of the city on a hill
I heard the clatter of the coin and the yawning of the few that have their fill
And the sun, it is a blister, rising like the dead
I drag my shadow behind me, and I drag my body to the edge of my bed
With my palms pressed to my eyes, I pray this one last time
If you’re someone else I might love you still, but as it is we’re done
Oh and you, you will not dig a hole in me

You will not chop down my tree
Or hold me under the water
No and you, you will not dig a hole in me
You will not chop down my tree
Or hold me under the water