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In Words (Commentary)

de Marika Hackman

If we were all born
With a pylon between our eyes
Would we notice the grass?
Through metal bars and siren cries?
I'm running on highways
And dust
But I've never been home
Well I know I must

I am a mouth
That built the hand that gave me life
And I'll kiss her [?]
Suck from metal teeth my fertile wife
Cause I'm having some trouble
Thinking straight
To put it in words
I hate to put it in words

To long for the light
A fickle wish, a fleeting wing
But she won't be caught
Tethered down and forced to sing
Cause I'm having some trouble
Seeing clear
And I'll never get home
I fear

And I must be left
For a little while to walk my road
The ways back are shut now
And I'll be left to tread alone
I want to go home

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