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Sweet Billy Pilgrim
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Archaeology
Trees are featherless, shaken brittle bones,
While the wind replies, In drunken semitones.
But though we hurt, Sweep the earth away,
From little things.
Push the dirt across, it disintegrates
The milky radiance of scattered vertabrae.
But in the hush we try to push them back into the ground
Tell me what you see x2
Archaeology x2
We are ruins now, and how we feel the loss;
Numbered artefacts on empty table tops.
But in the end we'll stop pretending everything's alright
It was lighter then, there are darker twists;
curators waking up as archaeologists
It's so late, no-one's making leaps of faith tonight
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Tell me what you see x2
Archaeology x2
Tell me what you see x2
No, we did not come to wake the dead,
But to prise the coins from every bony hand.
But their whispers fill the air like smoke.
'Till we're bound to understand
Here is when you left, when you cut your hair,
Here's the lie I told, should have left it there.
But needed truth, sifting through the dust beneath my feet.
Tell me what you see x2
Archaeology x2
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