your lungs reach out for the air
and pull it back down through the spout
but sinuses have given out

and it seems your tears have fallen up
and endless sadness fills your cup
but i don't want you giving up
on yourself

but employment's low
and the flowers don't grow
when the storms outlast the day
and there's no beauty
in the scenery
this is a place of earth and bone

how....

such a melancholy crown
that you have to wear around
this shallow, unwelcoming town

but at least you're not one of them
another dog inside the pen
and your sweet heart always extends
itself to me

but employment's low
and the flowers don't grow
when the storms outlast the day
and there's no beauty
in the scenery
this is a place of earth and bone