To The Other

Back at the river of red
Clothes upon the banks
That bird always over my head
If only you’d gone home
I let the swarm swallow me whole
Murmurate across the wide open sky
And spread me hair by hair

If only I wasn’t waiting for your voice
And if only you’d gone home
And back from that river of red
I don’t want to be spore in your throat

To the other

I don’t want to put it in your head
I don’t want to put it in your head
I don’t want to put it in your head
(That bird always over our heads)
I don’t want to put it in your head
(If only you’d gone home)
I don’t want to put it in your head
(Your youth pouring out of your mouth)
I don’t want to put it in your head
(Am I the last of your old life?)
I don’t want to put it in your head
(Faith, blinding faith and love)