Dead River

I'm a cough-drop on a hill-top.
Shadows to the east of my design.
And I won't come home again,
Not while that 'thing' is still living there.
And my arms can't drag you here when your feet are made of lead.
'Cause the moment you let 'it' in,
We watched the erosion, erosion begin.

Now the air is sourer than a mortuary morning,
But we're not dead yet! No...
We were alive like the rivers in the springtime.
Overflow, overflow.

Now the air is sourer than a mortuary morning,
But we're not dead yet! No...
We were alive like the rivers in the springtime.
Overflow, overflow, overflow.