SUN SWEPT THE EVENING RED SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE

You can take what you can hold, resentment is a hill to die on
And in times like this I hear you talking
Seasons take a toll to watch it all
End in tragedy and whimpering on

Sun swept the evening red and though it’s cold, I signal my way out has come
Beneath the awning that we stole, covered in leaves, I sign off my name in the end
I give you all you want and more; there’s the door
I sign off my patients to them