June - Pinback
Light flickers in my room Planes flying by Dropping down perfume Blanket out the sky Wander through the smoke Grabbing for food Choking on the air Might pass out soon Why do I assume these things are bad? Burnt down? Why must all those pretty be sad, somehow? Sheep trip over the fence Scared animals trample over the bed Siphoning out my will And it might turn out just like they said, And it might be even worse in here Even now It's up to the trees with the fire storm