Bootleg Bread & Whey

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.