Dry Wood

on Roadkill



My fingers are dry leaves that fall from my hands
My body is frail like an autumn timberland
Dropped my claws and teeth as I dropped my defense
I have no more questions, I have no demands

My mind is a wasteland invaded by you
Make it your kingdom, worth travelling through
Chop the trees, clear the country, leave a permanent trace
It could make this land a nicer place

Turned on the heating, locked up the door
It's the same old pattern, as the years before
Alas, little hedgehog, say, when will you learn
That your bristles won't save you when your demons return?

I should change my old habits, put on my new shoes
And walk towards and not away from you
But my mind is a wasteland and I have no maps,
Couldn't you be a compass to guide my steps?
Could you guide my steps?

Like birches in autumn I shiver and wilt
My reason's the foliage, the trunk is my guilt
Cut it down into pieces and set me to flames
Make the brightest of fires out of my remains

And I will burn for you
And warm your frozen feet
And I will burn for you

And I'll burn for you
And melt your frozen feet
I'll burn for you
For you.