My Mind is a pilot who always looks over his shoulder
Trained years ago to pay his attention to the wake
Of tears and of baggage trailing behind him
Never quite going where their old master planned for them
The Highway is a pirate with a bird on his shoulder
Trained better than to pay attention attention to the captives
All strung together, only ever going exactly
Where their new master has planned for them
This Show is a riot with blood on his shoulders
Too drunk to pay attention to the band or the dancers
Doing their best to entertain, but fueling the fire
And never quite knowing just who their master is
So, the three of them picked a day and they got together
And did the only thing they thought they knew how to
They tried to k** beauty
But now look at her ashes:
Hoarfrost triumphantly dusting the trees
They thought they k**ed beauty
But as gentle as eyelashes
I see her breast rising as she once again breathes