new songs! words, blount compound glass eye reading

Poetry reading at the blount compound tonight, does everyone seem like a twat when you're not drinking with 'em? i have to air out for a week or so, the open bar on tour definately got me into a rhythm: hand to bottle, bottle to mouth, mouth to gutter, gutter to head, head to hurting in the morning. thankfully we have got some work done in this lush summer, five new songs for the next full length. writing songs has been refreshing this time around, the little buddha under my bed has broughten us some song. i'll be sure to lay some crumbs down, or an almond at the foot of the bed, in the morning...

lyrics for two new songs:

Mustard Seed Boat

In the hull of a mustard seed boat
Piercing the sea on the point of an awl
Tattered sails wrapping the sky in a shroud
Inside a water drop that's crushing the sea

I put my hands up to my ears
Wulfram cries, children rise from the bottom of the sea
Cut the hanging from their ropes
What burns beneath their skin will never leave them alone

In the hull of a mustard seed boat
Tossing in our sleep, while the weed grows into a tree

I’ll cut my name into my arm
and let the wound grow into a scar
In here I’ll hide the things that I love
And drown them in my blood
No need for hope again inside my mustard seedling.


Untitled Song For a City in the Wake of a Recent Flood

I lost myself in the blue floodwater
Not like when the port it glowed with jellyfish
Now when I swim in the folds of your hair
Like a fox I dream of empty city blocks
My clumsy feet full of grace, they're in love with all things of this life

I cut myself on the flue at the bottom
Scraping by in the gutter while learning my sides
But I made my mark, singing in a dive
I caught the eye of Emma Carus, she loves me
Oh my clumsy feet full of grace, oh forgive them they can’t seem to dance
No they can't seem to dance

I told myself that some day I’d have it
The secrets you’re commanding that make you blush
And now summer's come to sleep with us, pay no mind
To the chattering twits who say I don’t love you, I do
My clumsy feet full grace, oh forgive they can't seem to dance
No they can't seem to dance

Oh my love, we built our world
around these beautiful corpses of ours
and life and its suffering
no ticker tape parade
no palisade against the rust and decay

sharpen your nails
knock the dust from your heels
we’ll traipse
through a Chaitya hall
on a bed of lotus

I'll hold your head above the floodwater
I'll hold your head about the floodwater