5. Summit

Waiting for the sunTo burn away the seasonRevealing the place we called homeBuilt by our blood and our blood alone

We will find our summit again

This blood does not flow through her veinsAs she walks on floors by mother laidSheltered by the roof my father built tallTo shield us from all that may fall

We will find our summit againIt will take more than the snowTo bury all that you have known

Waiting for the sun to burn away the seasonRevealing the place we called homeBuilt by our blood and our blood aloneSoon will come the winter's endWe will find our summit againIt will take more than the snowTo bury all that you have known

highlight lyricsto explain their meaning.EXPLAIN LYRICSDown here I wait with all my benthic friends Underneath the gate listening to lives end Those with seven gills will investigate each thunderous crash and corresponding shape In great detail, I described you to them In case the bridge is how you choose to end I'd like to have some last words with you before you end up on the Farallone's rocky shores Where the real beasts await to have their way With all the failures washed out from the bay A hundred years have past since just last autumn Please come to the bay, see who now lives on the bottom I'd like to have some last words before I forget how to walk upon these muddy shores and entirely cease to breathe like a man Seeing things only with the tips of my hands My heart is crushed by the jaws of regret Upon knowing where you now make your bed The depths at which I've chained to you I pray those shackles eventually rust through Held under by chiton like lies Amongst the corpses I'll never surface Debris bouncing off my hide Covered in detritus I've lost purpose What comfort lies in years of hating me? Haven't you in some way found a rare peace? Please realize your very soul's at stake you're still a man and I was just a tool of fate Your bite marks riddled my soul It got damn cold with all those holes So I left it on shore for all the gulls Take it There wasn't much left Take it But it's all yours Take it

La Brea Tar Pits (Pseudomonas Putida)

I awaken from what can hardly be called sleepStarving as if I had two stomachs to feedAn ebb and tide of images in my mind of the two of you keeps my gut painfully emptyThe tar boils and churnsI carve out and deny these infections on my soul and watch as they spawn a life of their ownLeaving snail trails of scars over what little of me is still pureAs they crawl towards where the tar boils and churnsAborted parts of my psyche are all found nourishing themselves at these pitsBubbling forth from the recesses of my mind where all I am slowly falls inAbominations of my being incessantly teething

I awaken from what can hardly be called sleepStarving as if I had two stomachs to feedAn ebb and tide of images in my mind of the two of you keeps my gut painfully empty