October

It's gonna be the shit hitting the fan
we're gonna run, they're gonna chase us
the duplicitous man
he's full of sheep and instructions
we're gonna run as fast as we can

home.

they're gonna drug us
and dig with our bones
we're gonna cry attached to their microphones
and the battle is never won
they're gonna talk our independence under their throne

home.

if time could stand still
you'd act paralyzed
with your hands stitched to the wheel
if love is invented by the lovers
then why am I alone?
because I have an imagination
I always colour outside of the lines
and I'm not a funeral
I swear I'm always moving in my mind

home.

don't you ever touch it.

don't you ever touch my home.