We love because
we're hollow inside.
Love drains away
and we die.
I guess God could fill it,
but if he did
could we hear our hearts beating?
And I have a feeling
God meant for this.
Light us up,
maybe,
then leave us to be empty.

Sometimes I wonder
Are we built for one another?
Cause I am made
of incompatible parts,
like point charges
in a tiny space.

We raise our hands to heaven
while our feet point to hell.
The singing red
in my arms and legs
reminds me of myself.

This skin is a shield
between me and the rain.
I would see stars
numb to the dirt
in my veins.

God, is this living?
A distraction?
God, is this dying?
My sins and me
And nothing?
Blame God for injustice,
but it's us -
it's just us.
If we all hurt a little,
no one does.

But down comes the sun, down,
down it comes again.
Every lowly silhouette
a yellow masquerade.

And when the rain comes
and cleans us,
I hope you're ready
for the dirt to wash away.
I hope that you remain.