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Nothings

Meet me Sunday morning
We'll hold hands and walk to church
Race you to the coffin
Hold our breaths, take turns
Leave me for the vultures
Let them pick me to the bone
Chase you through the pine trees
To the pond skip stones

What's happening to us?
We're turning into nothings

Meet me in the gutter
Share a needle fall asleep
So hard becoming valiant
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When it's so easy being sheep
So I'll see you Sunday morning
Cross our fingers scream to god
But if no one else can hear us
Life itself is flawed

What's happening to us?
We're turning into nothings

So hang your halo
High in the trees
Because nothings become
Nothing