Muck and Mire

I must drag my body through the muck and mire

Gather branches for it’s funeral pyre

Twigs I would rather twist into nests

Or whittle wooden wings and fly

But they said, hey oh dig another well

The water reeks of sulfur and it’s red as hell

Oh oh rip the curbing all away

Throw the wood on the funeral pyre

I’d call on my lord but he can’t help me now

I’d fall on my sword if I only knew how to believe there’s nothing above

Only absence of breath, of hatred and love

But it was born into me and if I can’t burn it out

I’ll forge all my swords into blades of a plow

And toil all my days in those fields of fire

And I will welcome those flames in a funeral pyre

I must drag my body through the muck and mire

Gather branches for it’s funeral pyre

Twigs I would rather twist into nests

Or whittle wooden wings and fly

But they said, hey oh dig another well

The water reeks of sulfur and it’s red as hell

Oh oh rip the curbing all away

Throw the wood on the funeral pyre

We file down our fangs on the bones of our foes

And curse their names with blood swollen tongues

We file down our hearts on the kindness of friends

Pick them up and cut them down again