I Take These Trips

I take these trips to go walking I take these trips to clear my head I travel to hell and back I take these trips to go walking And now I’m writing to get All this out of my head I take these trips to the graveyard at night I shoot summer stars with awful glances They say home is where your rug rests My rug is the grass over their bones My soul is the earth between their coffins My ears hear their children in the streets My eyes see What my eyes don’t want to see My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord My eyes have seen their demise I’d tear out my eyes to blind me from the sight But I can’t seem to escape this awful place I can’t get away from the graveyard I can’t escape my home I’m from where I am but how can i live without my life! how can i live i live without my soul!