Nuns
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The wood fire sucks in the smoke that I clutch in my shaking right hand
Meanwhile there's dust in the broom pan
Denial sure is more than just a long river in Sudan
I'm feeling uneasy like six in the evening I put on my shoes
Meantime the city bus blew by
Seems like I'm pretty much kidding myself and not you guys
Surely
There'll be mercy
But firstly
Like birds perched in birch trees they will chirp me
My eyelids and lips start to twitch in the kitchen I'm fixing to croak
Elsewhere the nuns do the breast stroke
Felt fair and fine at the time but in hindsight I let go
Surely
There'll be mercy
But firstly
Like birds perched in birch trees they will chirp me