Leaving the Nest - Audiomachine

Saw them gathering sticks from the ground By the thicket while assembling a nest. On alert for any lingering threats Building frantically without rest. Walls grew dense and blocked out the sun Caving in everyone. Darkness fell, wiped a once joyous tone Then famished, like possessed ended eating their own. Saw them gathering sticks from the ground By the thicket while assembling a nest.

I had a dream last night I saw the ocean saw a fight The fight of people for their history and homes All remains are now mystery and bones I saw the birth of a nation Running towards its own extinction I saw them digging, diggin, looking for something And I saw them drowning in their own coffin Mister Dodo watch your nest I fear for you to be honest Will we be staring at the fire High above from our silver glass pyre I saw the dark sky crumbling Upon a billion souls running A flood of hunters fleeing from their fate Rotten blossoms wiped out like poor bait What if this night would last forever Could all the kids be born to suffer A gloomy grave field of dead trees Could it, Mother, be us the disease? Mister Dodo watch your nest I fear for you to be honest Will we be staring at the fire High above from our silver glass pyre Mister Dodo watch your nest I fear for you to be honest Will we be staring at the fire High above from our silver glass pyre

Hay, and a clean stall, And ivy on a garden wall, And a sign saying Sold, And an old coat For the bad cold. I believe in you. Do you believe in me? What do you want to do? Are we leaving the city? On the black road, Through the gold fields, While the fields are plowed, Towards what we are allowed... The bridle bends in idle hands And slows our canter to a trot. We mean to stop, in increments, but can't commit. We post and sit, in impotence: The harder you hit, the deeper the dent. We seek our name. We seek our fame, and our credentials (Paned in glass, trained to master incidentals). Bleach our collar, leech our dollar from our cents: The longer you live, the higher the rent. Beneath the pale sky, Beside the red barn, Below the white clouds, Is all we are allowed. Here, the light will seep, And the scythe will reap, And spirit will rend, in counting toward the end. In December of that year, The word came down that she was here. The days grew shorter. I was sure, if she came 'round, I'd hold my ground. I'd endure. But they'd alluded to a change That came to pass, And Spring, deranged, Weeping grass and sleepless, Broke herself upon my windowglass. And I could barely breathe, for seeing All the splintered light that leaked her fissures, Fleeing, launched in flight: Unstaunched daylight, brightly bleeding, Bleached the night with dawn, deleting, In that high sun, After our good run, When the spirit bends Beneath knowing it must end. And that is all I want here: To draw my gaunt spirit to bow Beneath what I am allowed. Beneath what I am allowed.