She’s invoking the sign of the sickle moon
Cut my mammal brain in two
I admire the power at her command
All snakes under the shovel head
An age of grey matter over mind
Now she’s clothed in the sun
With the moon at her feet
She hates the world that’s failed to see
Making time we abandon our reserve
Pretend she is an orb weaver
Relics found in the dust of the aftermath
Some kinds of things you cut in half
Relics found in the dust of the aftermath
Some kinds of pills you cut in half
See you in the storm shelter counting down
Cover my eyes with you, black out
See you in the storm shelter counting down
Cover my eyes with you, black out
Either tied to the tracks
Or burned at the stake
Our coins could not derail the train
When it feels like we’ve walked
Through a thousand doors
Been peeling ourselves off the floor