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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