I pushed aside all the love in my periphery
In hopes of getting ravaged like a carcass by an animal in heat
Under oak trees, the cloak of orange shrivelled down to bones
And in her shadow I am twisting to the rhythm of the lone
Whistle in the distance
Pulling me to corridors and western suburbs
Back to old flames and their mothers
Waterfronts and educations
Picket fences and carnations
Serving as reminders of the reasons I must leave it all behind
I've often tried making light of all the circumstances
You call me up for the comfort of my second chances
Under white light, Beaconsfield felt better in July
Out of earshot of the preacher's wrath and his threats against my life
Fire in the backyard
Burning up our hand-me-downs and youngest daughters
Hospitals and sickly fathers
Frozen ground and coldest winters
Wooden floors and bloody splinters
Serving as reminders of the reasons I must leave it all behind
I drew a line in the canopy of trees behind the house
Just to symbolize the distance that I cannot live without
Hiding in the iris, memories of mother's love and new apartments
Last goodbyes and flight departures
Spreading themselves out against the vastness of the constellations
Afternoons spent in the garden
Talking once the movie's started
Serving as reminders of the reasons I can't leave it all behind