The sun will rise on my softened body
Just hours after we leave here
After we finally move our feet from these soft wood planks
After we tear ourselves from this table of shad flies and beer
The sun will reach down to work tension out of my bare shoulders
Painting them like it paints clouds with sailors' warnings
And it will dry up and flake off; art always fades off of my body
Nobody can mark me, not even the maker of mornings
Not even the bringer of daylight can brand me permanently
We'll feast, we'll feed, on that windy island
Bare feet on gravel and on dirt
We'll run and we'll fall like we used to in school yards
We'll touch our bloody knees with sweaty fingers like they don't hurt
We'll feast, we'll feed, we'll climb away from everything
That chased our vessel on its journey across the sea
And our feet will not meet the ground again
Our toes won't touch the road that we rode into this town on
As we take it back