Passerine

Like carillon bells, the house of Augustus rings

With the echoing hymn of my fellow passerine, they took to it

Like a fox to a burrow, like an eagle to an aerie

And my god, it's getting hard to even hum a single thing, 'cause

You were the song that I'd always sing

You were the light that the fire would bring

But I can't shake this feeling that I was only

Pushing the spear into your side again

See, my birds of a kind, the more and more are looking like

Centurions than any little messiah (messiah)

As I prune my feathers like leaves from a vine

I find that we have fewer and fewer in kind, but

My palms and fingers still reek of gasoline

From throwing fuel to the fire of that Greco-Roman dream

Purifying the holy rock to melt the gilded seams

It don't bring me relief, no, it don't bring me nothing that

You were the song that I'd always sing

You were the light that the fire would bring

But I can't shake this feeling that I was only

Pushing the spear into your side again and again and again

When he comes a knocking at my door

What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord?

When the cold wind rolls in from the north

What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord)

When he comes a knocking at my door

What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord)

When the cold wind rolls in from the north

What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord)

When he comes a knocking at my door (at my door)

What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord? (Oh, Lord)

When the cold wind rolls in from the north (from the north)

What am I to do, what am I to do, oh, Lord?