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St. Cloud
by
Waxahatchee
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When you get back on the M train Watch the city mutate Where do you go when your mind starts To lose its perfected shape? Virtuosic, idealistic, musing a fall from grace I guess the dead just go on living At the darkest edge of space When you get back home to Saint Cloud Watch the new world project A rousing image, scorched earth swinging Supernatural and complex And I might show up in a white dress Turn reluctance on its ear If the dead just go on living Well there's nothing left to fear If you burn slow, burning slow On your own roof, yell what you know Burning slow, burning slow Burning slow, burning slow And when when I go, when I go Look back at me, embers aglow When I go, when I go When I go, when I go
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