I watched the thread
of my sister's life unwind,
then I sold her coat
to some old man I couldn't find,
and her bravery
cost us more than some son sailing to the crowded East;
it's cold as hell
in this freezing carboard cell.

We pass the days
selling bootleg bread and whey.
I'll tick the time on an arm
that's bleeding worse than mine.
And my bravery
cost us more than old men dying on a busy street;
there's blood in these veins,
so we'll trip a mine and watch it wake the tired day.

I sold my soul
to some old witch who knew my name,
and we broke our fists
on a blackened window pane.
And our bravery
cost us more than children playing in a road-side creek,
Eden's burnt
But we're to strong to feel the hurt.

God sees the wreck
of traintracks lined with listening dead,
and we sold our shoes
and gathered tin to pay our debt.
And our bravery
cost us more than some babe crying in a fevered dream;
it's worked so well,
and every lie we write is one more page toward hell.

I watched the thread
of my sister's life unwind.
And we gave her up,
to the howling summer night.
And your rosary
is cracked and bruised with all the love you gave to me;
it's worn, it's torn,
and every hook we bait is one more step towards war.


Lyrics submitted by Letters for Saints

Bootleg Bread & Whey song meanings
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