My Senses Ends

from Nothing by Thanksgiving



It happens almost every time that winter ends get tangled up
We turn to beams of light or ways of life to make the night not full of death
And lakes are raked up to the grave, we’ve buried their sweet smelling beams
And these are waves, mound-bounding seams
Might not say thanks or ask you “please?”
But still, they’ll treat you just the same
In the same way as they would, sweetly,
Other things

It’s coming out that makes you tired and going down that makes you soar
So, catching breathes with aching limbs, we all walked back to the car then
It happens almost every time, my senses ends get tangled up
That I’m seeing things or I have dreams
But always crescent parts of breezes


from Nothing, released January 1, 2002


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