A storm sits above the house

That's why I'm out

To feel the heat of the weekend

Dry my hands on the poisoned pipes

Weave home through the lightning, long hands through the reckoning clouds

Reaching down

Oh and when I die

Will I have to watch my life

And make the same mistakes

Act the same drunk disgrace

I would like to see it backwards

And slip back to that happy kid

All the crap I collected

Put it back into the weary earth

Every anger melting

Every scar back to perfect skin

See the bombs ascend

See young Johnny come home

No messy dreams, no methadone

Oh to hear the speeches fail

The hatred slowly going pale

And feel it empty out

Every crooked truth and crippling doubt

To watch my body curl

Into the promise of a swollen girl

And then I'm a gasp of love

In the young, and fun and innocent

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