I am a child
fenced in my own room
power out
And I keep calling
luring others to join me.

[CHORUS 1]
They could be painters, mural makers
absurd beauty on forgotten walls
splashing color across each other
the cracks in our bones
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
   I have no rest; but trouble comes.’
I long for death, but death is gone,

Cimmerian space
inherits dark orders
a shadow class
Bound by our groping
grim pantomime

[CHORUS 2]
Let the day perish, a day born of darkness
my ingress on the life composed
Let good-burdened artists, their knives and their brushes
denounce my bawl.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
   I have no rest; but trouble comes.’
I long for death, but death is gone,

Each year with sweets
and candles all of wick,
naked of wax.
The masters preside
over their traps devised

[CHORUS 3]
I must be buried, a deeper alter,
My rebuilt ruins.
returned to extinction
Then to resurface,
no light eschewed
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
   I have no rest; but trouble comes.’
I long for death, but death is gone,

[ACOUSTIC]
and I will stay at my dark task
no festivals, no recompense
barricade the door, a safeguard
and dig until the house falls down and I have found
some offering to paint upon the wall
a remnant from the stars of dawn

[CHORUS 4]
They freed the clay and the pome
crushed and ground and full imbrued
wrenched apart the canvas void
to God’s disturbing interlude.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
   I have no rest; but trouble comes.’
I long for death, but death is gone