Nation of Language

Sacred Tongue

Nation of Language


I walk, nine o'clock
as you stroll on the Quay d'Orsay
stretched out on the bench
make me wait at the garden gate

but as I watch you recline
serpent, siren and saint congregate inside
and I look back on another time, colorblind
colored by the weight of a sacred tongue
but if our shirts don't fit and the jeans are ripped
that's fine, that's alright
and when our conscience clears I can murmur something trite
laying by your side

light shifts, the curtain lifts
you perform to great acclaim
I rescind the invitation or orchestrate my shame

never had a name for myself
all that in due time
before you carve my heart out know
I'm gonna let you every time
I will let you every time

I was always waiting for you to go

'cause you never cared for me
you feign towards the door and I'm down on my hands and knees

but as I watch you recline
serpent, siren and saint congregate inside
and I look back on another time, colorblind
colored by the weight of a sacred tongue
but if our shirts don't fit and the jeans are ripped
that's fine, that's alright
and when our conscience clears I can murmur something trite
laying by your side

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