On a bed of spider web...

Memory comes when memory's old

I am never the first to know

Following the stream up North

Where do people like us float

There is room in my lap

For bruises, asses, hand claps

I will never disappear

For forever I'll be there

Whispering

Morning, keep the streets empty for me

I'm laying down eating snow

My fur is hot, my tongue is cold

On a bed of spider web

I think of how to change myself

A lot of hope in a one man tent

There's no room for innocence

So take me home before the storm

Velvet mites will keep us warm

Whispering

Morning, keep the streets empty for me

Uncover our heads and reveal our souls

We were hung right before we were born