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Trophy Hunter (feat. The Holy Ghost Tabernacle Choir)

from Conceit by GILT

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lyrics

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

credits

from Conceit, released May 6, 2022

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