Kallocain

You are different they are right, you are different from their kind

They can not hear the sounds that are music to you, my blue eyed son

They can not see the light that will guide you on the paths that they dream about

when walking there inline

Their minds occupied

Oh the hooves of the herd ’gainst the ground

And it hurts me more than Kallocain

Yes hurts me more than Kallocain

to know that there’s room for such loneliness in your little chest

Truth as hurtful as the headsman’s blade

I am torn to pieces watching you drift away

On my shoulders some more miles

If I could I would carry you for the rest of my life

In your eyes I’m the sycamore

But I’m a ground birch kid, but wood for fuel to keep you warm

You’re a pyro in the night

Still freezing when not allowed

To sit around their fire

And it hurts me more than Kallocain

Yes hurts me more than Kallocain

to know that there’s room for such loneliness in your little chest