You're Only Crying for Yourself - Butcher Boy

You crack like glass on the southern side, above us the moon will haul a lonely

tide.

I fall, fall, through a filthy

Fog to meet you in the station by the hanging clock.

The bells in the clock

will chime a song for you, «As You Are Growing Older I Grow Older Too,»

the light from the carousel should send you home.

You want to go but you won’t

You crackle like fire and I can see you’re fitter, fiercer than you used to be.

I fall, fall, through a bitter cold to

Meet you in the harbour by the tallest boat.

The buoys in the dock will peal a

song for you, «As You Are Growing Older I Grow Older Too,» the face in the

photograph would send me home but you won’t

And you’re crying for yourself, confusing how you feel with how you felt.

I keep the calendar clean so you can

Fall asleep.

You fall upon the sword then fall on me

We scatter like stars when the ruck is done, you paint me, you frame me,

you hang me up.

You fall, fall, over

Pines and dunes to rest, to rust between the bud and bloom.

The birds on the

wire sing a song for you, «As You Are Growing Older I Grow Older Too,»

the arc in the melody will send me home when you won’t

You’re just crying for yourself, confusing how you feel with how you felt.

I keep the calendar clean so you can

Fall asleep.

You fall upon the sword then fall on me