We are the rolling commune of unmade beds
This village green wont hold my legs
and i know

Grass fingers make it slow

Too fast this morning, our bed

ridden ills
their brood die with muddy gills
i know

Grass fingers make it
slow


Well we're all to weak now, to pin our hopes on
Southern tracks,
relentless slopes and

i know
Grass fingers make it slow


We are the rolling
commune of unmade beds
this city green wont hold our legs

i know
Grass
fingers make it slow


Only the fearless
remain inconspicuous

but they're
minutes, just minutes away from us


[verse one]

assume that i will hide

from you

only the fearless

remain inconspicuous
but they're minutes, just
minutes away from.....