On the Eighth Day

On the fourth day since you left
I was in pain, I was in pain
I was running down Waterman with no shoes in the rain.
I was crying up to God "Let me go. Let me go"
I was callin' to my father, "Please come home. Please come home."

On the fifth day since you left
I was in flames, I was in flames.
I was burning since the night before where I made love to you like a train
I was crying tears of gratitude - you were still warm, you were still warm
and we were just an old life raft in a cold and brand new storm.

On the sixth day since you left
I didn't call, I didn't call.
I was putting all my agony into those holes in our walls
I was crying when I found your light blue dress in this mess
and I threw out all my clothes, "I gotta move west. I'm movin' west."

On the seventh day since you left
I was just done, I was just done.
I was looking for my exit wanting a gun, needing a gun.
And I was crying out for clarity, “Can I still hope? Should I still hope?”
and you were all sincerity in a white fur and bright red coat.

On the eighth day since you left
I was just calm, I was dead calm.
I held this caterpillar in my cut palms - bleeding palms.
And I finally saw myself just as I was - sick as I was
and I knew that I could change myself for your love
for you, love.