Heyyy, See how quietly Everything fades, But the years are short. And when the moon and sun are Together in the sky, I gather it all outside And set it on fire. Yes— The books and papers, Maybe even The furniture and memories. Every lie that gets In life's way, Every good thing That blinds the truth— It is rust. Smoke licks the ruins, You know how it feels: To warm your hands In the ashes of burned-down homes. Heyyy, See how quietly It rains again, Dust on the years. Maybe these same hands, The hands of a killer, Are reaching out For a head to caress, To feel the weight of the world. It is rust. Smoke licks the ruins, You know how it feels: To warm your hands In the ashes of burned-down homes. Smoke licks the ruins, You know how it feels: To warm your hands In the ashes of burned-down homes.
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