Crossrail Drive - Elysian Fields

If I was a fly, on a frog, in the sky, on a pad

On a lake of olden

Days I would count

Days I would grow

Days I would call for mother

Starve the night

Hope for light

Brother and I

How heavy our eyelids

Cold in the sun

It’s cold in the sun

We can’t undo what has been done

Even now, scratches soft

The traps in my head

And the roof lifts off

Off with their heads

Can’t stay in bed

Sick of counting cars

Is she never coming home

For her babies

Ghosts of no

Fragments show

Hunted by the creek in Burke, Virginia

I want to be touched

I want to be moved

I want to be felt and feeling

Here’s where I’ll die

Here is where I’ll die

Won’t you help me

To reach the sky