
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