No, well not patiently serenade and await
The coming of all that is ours for the taking
Come hither cooing from our lips escapes
No soft whispered, therefore not poetry
Well, accent our lives
This trials so desperate and dire
So hackneyed, held hardly together
By our hoarse screams heard only between
What's sewn in song
The stitching seems so severely immaterial, I'm sure
But this is ours
Produced for our pleasure, not yours
Not yours
On these words of our evolving truth
We've patterned our lives, building bolt by bolt
Laying floorboards and walls with our sweat and our blood
And our ten blistered hands to uproot our old plans
To throw off and leave
To leave, yes, we will leave this place
For a life not contrived by those that came before us
Pack your bags, hurry up
Get the van, we're riding up
Pack your bags, hurry up
Get the van, we're heading up
Pack your bags, hurry up
Get the van, we're heading up
Pack your bags, hurry up
Get the van, we're heading up
Tell your dad that we're going, we're going
Our hour nears, watch the way the hands circumscribe the face
Then we will fly, we will flee from this thirteenth colony
Our hour nears, just watch the way the hands circumscribe the face
We will fly, we will flee from this thirteenth colony
Oh yeah, god damn
Come on, yeah, god damn
Okay, okay, come on, yeah, god damn
To the blue suspended cirrus stirred by arrowheads of sparrow's flights
(Make room for me)
To the tangles of the forest's viral vacuoles knotted lives
(Make room for me)
To the horizon forever afoot, the waning western light
(Make room for me)
To the ocean's open bellies, black and swelling, starving, rise
(Make room for me)