Pressed

Pick the locks my dear

scratch them till they bleed

just don’t stand there in the doorway

our pulse to falter on the brink

Maybe I’ve got cat’s eyes

I’m just waiting for the night 

else I’ve seen the water drawing

and I can’t turn my head aside

I’m pressed

I’m pressed

by the marching of the seasons

blood to bind in reasons

I’m pressed

I’m pressed

by this flat parade of scriptures 

horizons shimmering

Throw plumes up to the sky

we celebrate tonight

a laid out Archimedean star 

to give this land no more its light

I’m pressed

I’m pressed

by the marching of the seasons

blood to bind in reasons

I’m pressed

I’m pressed

by this flat parade of scriptures 

horizons shimmering