Behold the drift of a distant sun
Cold as my own heart
Blind at the edge of no return
Every time I dare depart

I believe the myth may illuminate
An anchor in the dry weeds
At the end of July in a fake fur coat
Hoping that your heart still needs me

I concede there's beauty in bubblegum
I'm rolling up my sleeves
To advertise the new freedom
I accept I can't receive

Behold the gift of the distant sun
The canyons full of loose bones
The nettles and the brambles and the jack bitch boss
Thundering down from his throne