Blackbird Raum Bury The Record
A contagion, bury the record
That's the year the plague swept in, bury the record
The cloud of the stench, of the carcass, of the summer heat
I can explain so much
Only so much
This is why I'm here, to impress
Impress in you the need for all these things
Don't make that face at me
Remove this sourpuss glaze from your countenance
Buried in the sky or in the earth, face down or standing
Life is one force, grossly changing cold eclipsing
This year's murdering ground is the soil of future lives
