If I was us, I wouldn't start from here Especially in a broken home like ours Where broken doors and windows feed the cold. Each generation has a sacred task: To tell a better story than it was told. For we are reared by stories in such places Clawing through the bitter draughts of these For something we can truly get ahold of. It seems to help us off our shattered knees. The kind of myth my generation supped Was "We've got better heroes than they've got. For ours are much more decent, to a fault. And if we've a rotten apple, they've the rot." Our steps are now, at best, precise and formal Like dressage horses going nowhere well; Our peace a thing we part-baked in the 90s And left to prove, and got used to the smell. And yet, even in this half-peace we are living Where death is only half dead, I am sure That we could learn to change our tunes completely. But if I was us, I wouldn't start from here. If I was us, I wouldn't start from here For here's a swamp we've stood in for too long. We haven't kept our heads above the water, And haven't seen a thing, where we have gone. And we should fly now, frightened for our children. Kick off the bottom, rush towards the air, And break the water into different daylight And gasp, and say what we can see from there. For especially in a broken home like ours Where broken doors and windows feed the cold Each generation has a sacred task To tell a better story than it was told. A story made as honey is in bees From things that we have found outside ourselves. |
The punctuation may be incorrect; I've transcribed it from the video.