Appointment in Samarra

You have scars on your face from where he left you
your blue eyes still aren't dry
your hands have run through your blonde hair a thousand times
you say you're going to Samarra
won't be back tomorrow
you left a letter on the floor
bread winners won't be baking anymore

I've been wondering for awhile
how records in your heart
pull the Brompton shakes apart

the blood is in your hands
the bodies on the ground around us
make no future plans
sever every bound that binds us
that ties us

there is blood on the clothes that you'd once wear for him
was it worth the lace facade
his hands you still feel round your waist on rainy days

I've been wondering for awhile
how records from your past
make the brief encounters that last

the blood is on your hands
the bodies on the ground around us
make no future plans
sever every bound that binds us

the blood is on your hands
the bodies in the ground around us
make no future plans
sever every bound that binds us

the blood is on your hands
the bodies on the ground
the blood is on your hands
the bodies on the ground

the blood is on your hands
the bodies on the ground around us
make no future plans
sever every bound that binds us