Bell, Book And Candle

This town, near-demilitarized.
Where carrier pigeons commit ritual suicide.

Pleas for pity, and blank responses collide.
Tied to their ankles, tied like tired anchors.

But i know you drink like a fish out of water and
you're everywhere, everywhere,
without a drop for me.

We were land lovers.
Together.
Or don't you remember? don't you remember?

But you're a regular Benedict
when you wander, like a derelict,
house to house.
You're a regular traitor.

We stood and shook red-handed,
burying the hatchet.
Even as our legs cried out,
to run in different directions.

The innest crowd is throwing up last night's party,
on a floor that isn't theirs,
'til even their bodies hate their guts.

We've worked this swords to ploughshares,
and back until our shared secrets were cannon fodder,
and comforts caused a coup d'etat.

We stood and shook red-handed,
burying the hatchet.
Even as our legs cried out,
to run in different directions.

(Bell, book, and... Bell, book, candle.)

So are you gonna to drop me like your morals?
You gonna drop me like you promised?
You gonna drop me like our ideals?
You gonna drop me like our dreams?

Or are you gonna drop me like your concern
for others and being honest?
You gonna drop me like all logic?
Beyond reason, there you are.