He writes these words on your skin
You turn your head from him
Theres always things
That cant be said
But Joseph holds
The key to them
He lays these songs on your tongue
But its time to pay
For what youve done
Your scattered holes in unpaid debts
Are all cataloged
In Josephs head
Your brother is drunk here at your side
Waiting for your breath of life
But how can you sing what you know to be fake
Youll never wash Josephs mouth of your face
First scratch into this dusty wooden stage
A History of your best and wasted days
There is no place to run from Josephs truth
His hands are on your throat, but feeding you
May the river tie a rope around your feet
And drag your mind and body out to sea
Then thank the sky with colors, down from below
The universal mud where Joseph grows