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Steak Number Eight
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Exile of our Marrow
Off we go, far from the city lights
Beneath these broken skies, nothing is ready there
Dying fields and creeping fears
We drag behind the exile of our marrow
Through the black
Drying fears on our skin
Gripping tears leaving their trace
This is the exile of our marrow
Off we go, far from the city lights
Where I always try to be
Off we go, far from the city lights
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Where skies are really frail
Off we go, far from the city lights
Daddy's here but lights are healing
Off we go, far from the city lights
This is the exile of our marrow
Exile of our marrow
Through the black
Drying fears on our skin
Gripping tears leaving their trace
This is the exile of our marrow
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