Xerxes:Runaways

From Louisville Punk/Hardcore History
I laid doubt on an altar for you to bow before.
Like i would stay forever, and if I could,
I would make each sunrise a gunshot
so you could feel your breath slip away
before you see the morning.
(The sun lays low on your shoulder,
slung like a carcass.)
"There's no place that i would rather be
(Your branches weathered through the storms
and their silence.)
than holding your face in the dirt,
so when you breathe in my ear, 
I can hear the mud caught in your throat."

There's no love song for a crooked voice to sing,
there's no tongue that tastes freedom's blood.
Words speak around the burden that buries us,
such truth from silent lungs.

Our guilt is captured in the darkest hours.
When there is none: in every rising sun.
Unflinching, let your eyes fall to the sky.
Pray to your morning,

(The sun lays low on your shoulder,
slung like a carcass)
"There's no place that I would rather be
(Your branches weathered through the storms
and their silence)
than holding your voice in my hands,
so when you scream in my ear, I can turn it off."

Did you ever even see me turn around?
Give even one glance back?
I don't believe there's any home.
Homeward carries no direction anymore.