Races The Knife
Before there was you
I was made from the mud
I would dream of the seed of a flower
In the threads of my blood
From deep in my veins
Gardens would bloom
But each time the flower would grow
I would tear out the roots
I was blinded by your grace
It’s then that I was afraid
It seemed in that strange light
That it’s you who holds the knife
When you stood on the stage
Wearing that little white dress
A thousand silver horses raced through my chest
We woke in your room
To the bedspread and the dawn
It seemed as if I was dreaming of you all along
Blinded by your grace
And it’s then I was afraid
I knew in that strange light
That it’s me who holds the knife
One day without fear
A hesitation’s curse
We both would open the curtain
And rise from the earth
