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lyrics
If birth is selling a womb,
clutch your belly.
Do your talons pierce the skin?
Does your bouquet of arrows?
And your heart of flint:
it's trying to fire its way out.
If I could solder these wounds;
if I knew about ore; if I had any mettle;
if I could equate my country with love;
I might believe in anything,
I might sing your praise,
I might hunt with your pack of wolves.
The dogs now howl at night.
Let me sharpen my canines on your talent.
From within we multiply errors--
all-seeing eye, U.S. Mint.
Eagle ripped the olive branch right down.
If I could solder these wounds;
if I wanted your war; if I felt quite settled;
if I could equate my country with love;
I might believe in anything.
I might sing your praise.
I might hunt with your pack of wolves.
I might believe in anything.
I might sing your praise.
I might swallow a hundred pills
if you tell me they'll help me to sleep for days.
But aren't we half-asleep always?
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