The Missing
As we draw in steam through our teeth we wish all of them well
They go missing while we sleep
The streets will shut down under us while we grieve
They’re sinking under buildings, our uprooted seeds
Hardly anyone passes through these doors anymore
Smoke billows in just inches from the floor
And it rains, and it pours like before
The boxes stacked
The curtains drawn to the sill
We wait for each light to burn out
The hills will sink down under us in the flood
They’re shrinking in the concrete, our lifeless blood
Hardly anyone passes through these doors anymore
Smoke billows in just inches from the floor
And it rains, and it pours no more