I could be the tiger, I could be the snake,
I could be the fire, I could be the lake,
I could be the sky-bird waiting on the wind,
I could be the devil waiting to begin.
See, I was the wounded master, oh then I was the slave,
My hands and my mouth, aw honey, they would not behave,
See, I was the holy writer then I was the page,
I was the bleeding actor then I was the stage.
But now you're telling me my heart's sick,
And I'm telling you I know,
And you're telling me you're leaving,
And I'm telling you to go,
And I'm not so sorry for the heart-wreck,
But for each season left unblessed,
The new terror in the canyons,
The new terror in our chests.
I could be the tether, I could be the place,
I could be forever or just a couple days,
I could be the morning that breaks upon your skin,
I could be the devil and do it all again.
See, I was the wounded master then I was the slave,
My hands and my mouth, aw honey, they was caught in a rage,
See, I was the holy lion then I was the cage,
I was the bleeding actor then I was the stage.
O but now you're telling me my heart's sick,
And I'm telling you I know,
And you're telling me you're leaving,
And I'm telling you to go,
And I'm not so sorry for the heart-wreck,
But for each season left unblessed,
The new terror in the canyons,
The new terror in our chests.
