Lethe
go on ahead x
make that toast with water X
drink the dead drink X
drink the dead drink and forget
( for there is nothing to rest your hope on, and no sure thing on which for you to bet)
I’ve danced with needles
and slept with bottles
taken smoke down deep in my lungs
I tried to climb the ladder to heaven
but could only swing from the bottom rung
I’ve slept in the gutter
seen my face reflected in wine
like bridges in earthquakes I crumbled
I fell together with faceless flesh
and into dirty beds I tumbled
but I could never forget
then through asphodel i stumbled
crushed flowers
with my boot
that threw up great clouds of pollen
that drowned me and drugged me
but on i walked
over the backs of others who’d fallen
I made my way down through the bowels of the earth
past bones and diamonds
and other things that have no worth
I crept and I crawled
till I found the bottom
there was no heat and no cold
I did not seat nor shiver
through wandering I found
the black banks of a river
the powerful thirst that I carried all my life
was never slaked
by the tender touch of a wife
or god or money or blood
I danced with razors
and ran with bottles
slept fitful in the mud
I hung myself with years
and slashed myself with hours
I fell like all things fall X
be they bombs, or night, or towers
whiskey had no mercy
there was no hope in gin
but when I knelt and drank deep from that river
I found oblivion
some men lay with whores
and some men lay with swine
they’ll always toast with whiskey
and they’ll always toast with wine
in those things there is no comfort
so I’ll always toast with water
and leave my luck, and memory behind X
go on ahead X
make that toast with whiskey
go on ahead X
make that toast with rye
but you’ll just keep carrying on that thing you carry
and bare it’s weight until you die
I made the toast
and drank the water
and I forgot myself
now maybe I’m just a better man X
we all drink to forget
yes we all drink to forget
and god how I forgot it all
I have no memory of fallin when i get up to stand
for now maybe I’m just a better man
Vocals: haunted, and subversive. Guitars: splintered shrieks. Drum machine: grim, unrelenting nausea. Visceral noise, with a hook that gets stuck in in your throat. Just try spitting them out. Stranger Killings
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