Era Prison

Why can’t you take up
The lies that you made up
We’ll go down with you, down with you, down with you, until you fall
Why don’t you burn up
The strife that you cook up
We’ll go down with you, down with you down, with you, until you’re gone
We don’t take it easy, we don’t take it often, we take our chances in the
offing, we take soundings with no prompting
We don’t speak it lightly, we can’t speak it often, when the minutes are the
warden, and the motions are all orphans
Why don’t you take up
The life that you made up
We’ll go down with you, down with you, down with it, until it crawls
Why don’t you stand up
The people you built up
We’ll go down with you, down with you, down with you, until you’re gone
There’s, just room, for the ones we choose
There’s, just room, for ones we lose
Obvious colors and obvious places, we drift from intentions, and drift from our
accidents
Down to us, down to us, down with us until the days that keep us keep us coming
up coming off
Where we stand now -- just two people caught resting, we’ll be off again before
long, off before era prisons are closing
(and closing, and closing us out into something we can’t see and can’t call up)
They’ll always look at you through the windows of what you were before all the
changes that came to be more to you, more to you
(more to you, than all the people that wander off, well-fed and dressed-up)
We wander the streets of these bedrooms a stroll through the last of the words
there are no more to move around move with you
(move with you, move with you, until it’s there)