1. |
Fair Heathen
03:39
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2. |
Crawls on the Tongue
06:37
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Crawls on the Tongue
My black sugar skull
to have and to hold
this sweetness that crawls on my tongue like a beetle
It rolls down the tongue like diamonds
It fills up the tooth like poison
It is a time that rolls down the spine like snake eyes
my black sugar skull
to have and to hold
to kiss in the cold
and crawl down my tongue like a beetle
It fills up the heart like brimstone
Murders the flowers like snow fall
Screams down the halls of cathedrals of salt
And rests on the head like cobalt
Blue is the color of ribbons, and veins, and first born names
The rain washes dirt off the skin
But not off the soul
My black sugar skull X 4
To have and to hold X 4
To kiss in the cold
and crawl down my tongue like a beetle
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3. |
Red Waltz
06:47
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Red Waltz
The way is a box
The way is a square
Your feet are all bare
In blood to the ankle
And tangled up in the guts
The music is soaring
And the music is grand
You lick the tips of your fingers
Just after you’ve dirtied your hands
The way is closed
The way is a box
That is hard and perfect
Without hinges or locks
The music is a schriek
The music is a groan
As you dance this red waltz all alone
The sky is a suicide
Its wrists are raining down on your face
with lithe beauty and grace
and wet rotting lace
and a terrible corset of bone
you dance this red waltz all alone
your twin was a dirge
for a long somber march
the dirge wept for its throat
as your fingers wrapped round it
and the pig iron furnace in your eyes was lit
as you choked out her life
you looked thin and lithe
and cast a fine shadow like a boning knife
the way is a box
without hinges or locks
Oh my how beautiful you’ve grown
you’ve murdered memories and lovers
and pulled up sodden covers
over their heads
how tightly you embraced your sister
her eyes rolled back
and she died when you kissed her
oh my how beautiful you’ve grown
as you dance this red waltz all alone
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4. |
It's Really Coming Down
06:54
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5. |
Tabacco Tea
05:26
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Tobacco Tea
There is a slowing of time
A life of low light
Flickering between beats
The atmosphere thickens
And mortal weight is made easy
Only a feather now to bare
There is an Iris that’s shrinking
as perception grows dim
and space is all black at the corners
and everything is soft at the edges
There is a rose of heat
But a bit of snow still clings to its cheek
The claret all thickens
as the watches wind down
there is a frost on the ground
and a brackish gown
and a heavy crown of sleep
there is only absence in the divining dregs
absence in the divining dregs
at the bottom of at the bottom of, the bottom, the bottom of, the bottom of
my cup of tobacco tea
There is a breath of tar
and a dying star that rests its head
upon the lips of a silver scar
The hours clot
the minutes rot
and the seconds just crawl away
There is a heart of spoiled milk
high upon the tide
of a brackish sea
There is a prayer
and an answer
at the bottom of my cup at the bottom of, the bottom of, the bottom of, the bottom of
of my cup of tobacco tea
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6. |
Isle of Dogs
12:48
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Isle of dogs
come back to the pack
come back to the kill
come back to your home
come back home
come back to the isle of dogs
come back to the rut, and the lust
come back to the warren, and the wood, and the light through the dust
come back to the air that is ripe with anticipation
pregnant with the thrill of the hunt
come back to your home
come back home
come back to the isle of dogs
come back to the dewer
come stalk the moors
and haunted forest floors
come back to the cemetery gates
each hound upon his mountain
never again be shouting
for rumbling in your throat is the very thing that grates
the paltry souls of men
come guard the the scales
by the side of your true god
come back home
come back home
come back to the isle of dogs.
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