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Astronautalis

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Astronautalis

17 Summers

I climb this hill to build you up.
They say no man is an island.
With wood and rocks I built this hut.
And we ate all our meals in silence.
If poor truth be our only love
Then where will lies find me.
For wood and rocks are not enough.
With out you nothing can build it.

Oh no...no expectations.
No new...no expectations.

Seventeen summers since the nation died in my clutch.
And she swore I can outrun your guidance and love.
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Peace is peace and blood is blood.
Tis rare the twain shall meet
Just once
The world has wisdom but never enough.
I'm a dull image of my father's son.
My weak hands can't mend our hearts
And yours can... tear the world apart.

God give me the strength to live as I please.
With the windows open, and my face in the breeze.

I will follow.