Innkeepers

This is what it looks like On repeat inside of this life Hair of the dog-eating-dogfight Oh, This is what it looks like Our name's on that marquee We must say we're proud of our teeth Some bitten hands at the feeding Oh, But our name's on that marquee Maybe we turn around and turn to salt Make a scene, then refuse to blame the fall Maybe Christ who slept don't sleep at all When they introduce us To the dogwood with a nail gun Know that we go with confusion Oh, When they introduce us Maybe you will return with ivory feet Maybe true: time will fuse the chaff & wheat Is the Christ who slept asleep on me? My best friend, see your soul is overdressed What I meant, You're too chickenshit to guess And I can't help but wonder As we return to dust Is the Christ who slept asleep with us