know my onion

Three thousand miles north east
I left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads.
"what kind of life you dream of? you're allergic to love."
Yes i know but i must say in my own defense
It's been undeniably dear to me, i don't know why
When every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters
I knew the worthless dregs we are,
The selfless, loving saints we are,
The melting, sliding dice we've always been.