Monuments - This Or The Apocalypse

Harsh spoken cadence are these crooked lines we walk by

Yet brilliant beasts of flight

Don’t cease to line our roads home

Drowned amongst a sea of faintly falling ashes

We cannot come back here

Speaking through the slit in your tongue

Crying out that you belong

Just for you are bitter in thought

And you ate of your own heart

In gathering the fragments of the time we’ve sowed

We never chose the crops nor the tares

In burning what’s left of every single field

How could you ever forget?

What is left to build here?

Of which do first we destroy?

Ancient sullen anger

Put your hands in the earth

You were once the roots of something whole

Right there where you stand;

put your hands in the earth

There is nothing left to set us apart

There can never be an end to all the graves and the dust

And we will never wash it from our hands

In carving your name into the marble stone

How could you ever forget?

We cannot come back here

Speaking through the slit in your tongue

Crying out that you belong

Just for you are bitter in thought

And you ate of your own heart

Immensity is now your greatest fear

As it calmly tracks your steps

In planting the seeds along your very home

How could you ever forget?

And all we have left are the monuments