The walls shouldn't grow mold but they do
concrete shouldn't crack
and yet all signs of the hard life appear in our backs
and we get to bed aching muscles and heart so needy
And we still find the strength to thank a god we can't see
and welcome with all love a fat tomorrow to swallow us up
The sweet rhythm of the bus gears changing
and the homeless scream
When I look at the rules they've got stress lines across their faces
Peeling skin and nervous ticks
heal them where they are written
Straighten the letters god
And keep the train on it's tracks
Scrape that mold why don't you
and learn how to greet us as an angel
and how to hide the demons, there's space for them too
Mold and cracks are always going to appear
across those solemn faces that no longer hope
tomorrow is neutral
Don't blame life
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