Ill

I don't know what's left to say:

here's pain; here's my armor

still songs beat in my heart

return me to myself, kids.

I have become a ghost; I go;

I was gone for a generation

until tears filled my prayers

swam into years of sky.

Return me to myself, kids,

I belong to a god who has 

never even once killed me

the press of axe is only ice. 

When surrender lies inside me 

I... will shatter--into your accents

your stories, curious superstitions.

For you, I will... love unfinished.