Thread some red string through your hair in the mirror
Get buzzed downstairs by some friends of yours
Walk up East 10th in the fog and the drizzle
Pass by your namesake in the cathedral doors
People look through you, and talk like they don't know you
Stare into the wood grain til your vision swirls
The bar lights in the bottles like the billion golden haloes
Of the martyrs and the saints
Whose prayers keep the world in being
Whose prayers keep the world in being