in a street full of sound, in a hall full of light
from a crack in the ground, in the endless deafening bright
in a gas station lot, in the grime and the gore
in a place we forgot, alone in a dream on the floor
in a half-baked nightmare, on a whim or a lark
or a highway to nowhere out west in the tumbling dark

he's been looking
for a place to start
to break old nature was always hard

and every day feels like the last one
and every day feels like the last one
and every day feels like the last one
it will be found
old nature will dig its way up from underground
no matter how far you bury it down

in my dead front lawn in the late afternoon
in a crumbling wall in the sky that you keep in your room
in an unfinished plane as the engines burn out
in the crease of a name in the terrified gape of my mouth
in a bundle of nerves in a hurricane eye
in a low humming stir that you hear when a heart rate climbs

what is it exactly that you're trying to find?
he's a too-close fly-by
he's interminably tongue-tied, but
he's gonna be all right

every day feels like it's the last one
every day feels like it's the last one
every day feels like it's the last one
i'll be around
old nature will dig its way up from underground
no matter how far you bury it down