Each day, with resolve,
I build all things up,
& each night they are torn down
like Penelope
tearing stitches out
with the ease & patience of practice.

There’s smoke in my dreams
but light enough to see
the object of my affection.
At my bedside, I pray
the draft won’t blow us away
to some distant desert or ocean:

scattered like seeds
on the ground at your feet,
& you’re left with that longing
like poor Penelope.
The moaning machines,
the pollution we breathe...

We’re always makin’ love or makin’ war.

When my brother was sick,
he called me to his side
& said, “Brother of mine,
I’ve trifled my time.
I’ve been swallowed whole
by the apple of my eye,
but now I see my sin,
so heed this admonition:

“If God’s been misquoted,
just bid Him repeat,
& if you’re coming undone,
start a fire in the street,
& burn your possessions
’till you suppose you’re complete,
& take off your clothes
in arcane ecstasy
’cause life is too short
to grow roots underneath,
to be stifled in slumber
’neath twisting ivy.
If you find love, hold on,
but for wit’s sake grow wings
& fear only the sun;
find the balance of things.”

{It’s} no longer my own
like a garment outgrown,
a painted ship on a tumultuous sea.
It’s fickle & fleeting
like the sun or the seasons...
{Forever} makin’ love or makin’ war.

Lyrics submitted by VampedVixen

Penelope song meanings
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