1. |
||||
You think I’d be bitter towards the water for all the times I almost drowned
But the measure of a strong swimmer is how long they can stay down
No beauty in being crushed beneath, but somehow still so tempting
Precious metals pockmarked along my teeth will long outlive my memory
It’s only sacred to me
I’m an amethyst reflecting the same story folding inwards
You don’t see yourself inside me, cursed to not display in mirrors
I dream to be the thorn snapped off inside the lion’s paw
A legacy of ego death, then dying for nothing at all
It’s only sacred to me ‘cause I don’t understand it
I see the bottom of everything, wax wings remade ceramic
Uncertain trust, readdressed with iron lungs
Uncertain trust, circle around again and around again
Live in the shadow, but made in the image
Give up your only father it’s that inverse religious
Slow deathwish, sit on your hands ‘till they’re broke
A censer’d disciple, stuck breathing in the smoke
But still an unaccounted for gun from the first act
Two lovers with no plan, one cash-poor, one cash-strapped
No circle unbroken, turn my head Pollock with no frame
No borders, no walls, no power passed through a last name
Nothing is sacred to me
An uncanny resemblance, these crooked teeth
Staring into the sun, keep repeating,
“I’ve seen You before, I just can’t remember what You look like”
Anymore
|
||||
2. |
||||
Pressing ears to open doors
Subtle, the teeth are smooth, but the tongue is coarse
Lions lined up in row
Mouths dripping, eyes wet
The hunger pains of old friends
Mixed autumn leaves that couldn’t turn sooner
Defacing paint but with a lesser sense of humor
Carving cherubs in the quiet of my room
Grinding down nails, fresh-bit, into the shape of tools
30 pieces as a minimum wage
Kids selling rotten fruit and making bootleg tapes
Becoming cautionary
Did The Right Thing
But it didn’t matter anyway
Spun from satin, but hardened to casts
Arranging shards of myself to be stained into glass
Have you grown tired of mending?
Have you grown tired of mending just to see yourself break?
Spine displaced, waiting to separate
Reticent, reticent, reticent!
Carcass full, no crawl-space
|
||||
3. |
||||
Two birds collide in midair
Who can you tell?
Who would believe what you have seen?
“Oh no, no, they’re just feathers in the street”
Small hollow bones and other baggage
Disrupt the rhythm of simple tasks
Idle thoughts in traffic:
“How long until I admit defeat?”
Rose-colored bills
Are the least of all my worries
Sit still. Self-soothe. Sedated.
Black firework display in my head
Born again in a hospital gown
Evangelical, but not devout
Prescribed controlled burn:
Pill to mouth
Lucid dream on a hostile bench
Bent nail to blood-filled sock again
Somehow pushing the hook further in
Is how you get it out
Lilac petals drip through the screen
Lost pieces of glass catch the light like rings
Heavy scarves made from feathered flesh
Use this albatross ‘till there’s nothing but bones left
|
||||
4. |
209 (feat. Carson Pace)
02:50
|
|||
Left for dead, and when Death came to collect
The offering hat passed had very little left in it
The devil on your shoulder, palms red, empty handed
Unsure of what to do, just hanging around out of habit
Like an old dog loyal only to a fault
Your neighbor in the next room giving confession to a wall
No mention of the victim, just the outline of the weapon:
“A handle carved for holding, and ears open to suggestion”
And when you didn’t pick up I was pretty sure
That some static machine held your last words
No questions, just asking for an answer
A jobless tyrant
Forever open eyelids
I’m in the place with no name again
Some bad influences after a job too well done
Asking what it all meant
Brass said, “Hey man, shit happens”
Sand in his eyes so he can’t say what he saw
But bullets for medical is state-sanctioned insurance fraud
“At least the enemy won’t hurt anyone else”
Well there was another civilian casualty
When he walked into the woods by himself
If I’m a part of something greater
I want to know the other parts by their first name
|
||||
5. |
||||
Prosthetic fingertips for human hands
Help carve the wood into one of three shapes
Each kill is set in frame the same way
Streetlights all tethered to the same clock
My memory’s color cordoned off
They let me see the body, but still diffused the face
The orange glow an anesthetic haze
Serif seraphim
There’s thorns around red text again
Mother may I, Mother may I
Just try to forget?
Tongue to the wound
Foil to the canvas
Metal taste, dressing damage
Plead, “Chase after me, Trophy Hunter!”
The illuminated manuscript of current day
White tee shirt, phone-photo-printed face
Each kill is set in frame the same way
That man with the stable of anemic steeds
Says he collects, but ends up taking everything
A faith informed by entropy that won’t shake
He fades into the glow of orange again
More ego contaminates
Wax fingerprints melting off of the candlestick
The midnight oil burns
Gross obsession with symmetry
Grading pounds of flesh on a curve, not objectively
Gross obsession with symmetry
A savior will judge but a captor can pity me
|
Streaming and Download help
If you like GILT, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp