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The Deer
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Look Alive
I lost my balance in the morning, in the morning
in a white-footed falling rain
I kissed her reflection in the river, in the river
oh the star-covered rose-budded face
I reached in my pocket for a switchblade or a handshake
all I found was a rosary
and the Holy Bible I devoured, I devoured was of well water,
soil, and change
Now they say to the back of my eyes
'Would you look alive, would you look alive?'
They say to the back of my eyes
'would you look alive?'
One hand on my thigh and the other hand
twists a thorn in my side
I took for a wife a starving artist, starving artist
with a red-headed genius steed
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She was strong, she was private she would probably survive it
oh I wait patiently for the saints
to decree that she faked the whole thing
and there's no pressing need
to succumb to falling freedom
the white, white bird took to the white, white moon
took me to deep, dark gloom, oh and back up through
and now they say to the back of my eyes
'Would you look alive, would you look alive?'
they say to the back of my eyes 'would you look alive?'
One hand on my thigh and the other hand twists a
thorn inside my side, I don't understand why
Thank your lucky stars for bring you your dear departed
Did you see to it she came through me?
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