It was a year ago I started shakin’.
My hands, they called me on my lies.
Late at night, I hear the whispers
of all the ways a man can die.
I been up all night picking scrap wood and wire
to build a tower to set on fire.
I was forgotten just like I’d imagined
but I was seized by a strange desire
to build something high and unbidden
and to watch it be consumed in the fire.
I been up all night picking scrap wood and wire
to build a tower to set on fire;
an effigy to history in timber.
Don’t let it mean too much of anything, just watch it burn.
