Crossrail Drive Elysian Fields

If I was a fly, on a frog, in the sky
On a pad, on a lake of olden
Days I would count
Days I would grow
Days I would call for mother

Starve the night
Hope for light
Brother and I
How heavy our eyelids
Cold in the sun
It’s cold in the sun
We can’t undo what has been done
Even now, scratches soft
The traps in my head
And the roof lifts off

Off with their heads
Can’t stay in bed
Sick of counting cars
Is she never coming home
For her babies

Ghosts of no
Fragments show
Hunted by the creek in Burke, Virginia
I want to be touched
I want to be moved
I want to be felt and feeling
Here’s where I’ll die
Here is where I’ll die
Won’t you help me
To reach the sky