The Briar Fields: Cold Dead Sun

Cold Dead Sun


Marian, you ain’t got no headlights,
Yellow-line-riding on a cold, dead sun.
I’m waiting for you up at the river heights,
Lying to myself about being the one.

Gravity has got you feeling so small
So you had to go put everybody down,
Dancing before the castle mirror,
Wearing nothing but your father’s crown.

Marian, you ain’t got no heartache!
You’re just the empress of the stage,
So don’t you go mocking my heartbreak
Only to turn to the next page.

You hear the crowd packed to the back row
But your velvet curtain just won’t rise.
Now where are you without your phantom?
Is there not a soul who’d dry your eyes?

Fissile thorns in the hands of migrant workers,
Who somehow seem to know my face,
Warn me about chasing wildflowers like you
Into the voids of lifeless space.

Marian, you have lost your pony
And the road is full of blood.
And I meant what said about being lonely.
So come with me out from the flood.

Queer puritans on electric horses
Riding through the ragged battle fields
Send me away from your high castle
With rose vines wrapped around my heels.

Marian, you ain’t got no headlights,
Yellow-line-riding on a cold dead sun.
I’m waiting for you up at the river heights,
Lying to myself about being the one.