From the recording Vol 1


I was empty
Like a prayer book
Like a long look
At a dusty bone

I was silent
Like a stoplight
Like a bad night
In a broken home

Nothing to no one
All offers taken
All things to all men
Nothing forgiven

I was fragile
Like a heart beat
Like a main street
In a holy land

I was violent
Like a mistrial
Like a glass vial
In a lifeless hand

I was worthless
Like all things
Like the good wing
Of a wounded bird

I was vacant
Like a phone call
Like the dead fall
Of a final word