There’s blood in the sky,

and there are daisies on the ground,

and there are ashes in the air.

You’re surrounded by marigolds.

 

There are ashes in the air.

There are ashes in your hair, and there’s blood at your feet,

and tears on your hands, and if I didn’t know better,

I’d say there are ashes in your heart.

 

You want to be up, up, up,

when the world winds down, down, down.

You want to say your goodbyes, before the fire consumes.

You want to memorialize yourself, self, self.

 

Ashes, ashes, on the ground.

Ashes, ashes, merry go rounds.

Ashes, ashes, merry go rounds.

Ashes, ashes, on your hands.

Ashes, ashes, in your hair.

 

There are ashes all around you.

There are ashes everywhere.

There’s blood pooling all around.

There’s blood everywhere, and if I didn’t know better,

I’d say there are ashes in your heart.

 

There’s only one thing you want:

peace, going up up up.

There’s only one thing you hate:

war, going down down down.

But the one thing you to forget to claim:

the peace you forgave, the war you made,

the debts you never paid in your time on the ground.

 

Ashes, ashes, on the ground.

Ashes, ashes, merry go rounds.

Ashes, ashes, merry go rounds.

Ashes, ashes, on your hands.

Ashes, ashes, in your hair.

 

There’s war all around you.

There’s war everywhere.

There’s blood pooling all around.

There’s blood everywhere, and I’ve seen enough to know

your soul is just as ash as your hands.