this town awake in fever
will but feel this rhythm right
wraith mist by the river
a mortal song takes flight

and everything it took from me i spit out on its shores
what i'd kill for, how i fly, what i did the night before

and little black gifts go flying whoa-oh-oh

they're leaning on each other
but nobody's standing fast
figure it's solid at the end
yeah they're falling hard at last

and i will be a firing line i will waste you all this time
and these rhythms and these rhymes will take root within your spine

as little black gifts go flying whoa-oh-oh

yeah the signs are slowly burning
pale flames lick at the door
mind forgotten barely pulsing nerves
drive fingers to a chord

and what you say is who you are, fundementally you're bored
and the meaning in your voice largely goes ignored

as little black gifts go flying whoa-oh-oh


little black gifts

BacK


copyright 2003 daniel s. zimmerman