Terra
de Geordie Greep
It's not open to the public until spring
When the renovations are complete
It's not a bird, not a plane, or anything
It's the most wonderful thing you've ever seen
My life's work, my dream come true
It's the newest new in new
At this point, I'll have to tell you what it is
It's the museum of human suffering
We have splayed across the foyer, inordinately bled
The carcass of our saviour who rose from the dead
Victims of drought, and famine, fetuses abandoned
Are waiting here to be admired
And at the center, set to expire
My punctured bleeding heart of desire
Just for a moment, watch me please
Oh, watch my heart bleed, tell me (terra, terra, terra)
Just for a moment, give it a squeeze
Feel my disease, remember me (terra, terra, terra, terra)
Just for a moment, just for a second
Please remember me, please remember me! (Terra, terra, -a)
I'm able to forget in the company of others
And I'm able to forget in restaurants, on trains
But by myself, with every breath
In every night, in every bed
In any hotel room in the world
She comes writhing back
Like a talented pestilence, she unzips the air
Blinding light emerges, pink dark iridescent sludge everywhere
And I say: Take me to your holy land
Take me by the hand
And would you tell me
If I'm remembered by the saints up here
If they've been to my famous museum
Just for a second, just for a moment
Just for a minute more, tell me (terra, terra, terra)
Just for a second, just for a moment
Everybody please, tell me (terra, terra, terra, terra)
Take off my corpse, shake his hand
Tell yourself, "he was a great man!"
(Oh, oh, oh)
Dig up my bones
Trepan yourself a flute
Play along to this tune
(Oh, oh, oh)
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Walk Up
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Motorbike
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As if Waltz
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Holy, Holy
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Holy, Holy
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Holy, Holy
Blues
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The Magician
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Through a War
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Blues
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Bongo Season
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If You Are But a Dream
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