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Battlefields
Marty O'Reilly & The Old Soul Orchestra
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Synapse firing
Shelling in the darkness
I feel like a crowd, all their voices in my lungs
It's hard to hold a sense of brotherhood
Between siblings taught to speak different tongues
We're nothing alike you told me
Try not to speak and just behold me
Not every part of us is unalike
I'm too tired to broach the subject
The subject doesn't seem to wish to help
I hope our weary eyes fall on the object
After all, the object is the thing itself-
The thing itself
Struggle all with words is still so wounding
Your disdain for things outside myself
A misdirected aim of pointless fingers
Pulled our gazes from the thing itself-
The thing itself
We're nothing alike you told me
Try not to speak and just behold me
Not every part of us is unalike
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