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A first glimpse. A debut album will be released later this year. This song is a bare-bone one shot take, guitar and vocals all into a single mic.
WALKING THE WORDS
The poison of apples have turned from their roots,
worms picking birds off their bones,
out of the skulls there’s no more good songs,
to bring your love back home, to bring your love back home.
Bullets will rain from buffalo men,
the cowards which no whore would claim,
who might rape their sheets or butcher their bed,
but no one remembers their name.
Lay down your eyes there’s no need to see what next,
nothing can catch you the fall that has no rest, and
who needs purpose, it's just light upon your hands,
the lines of a paper can’t walk the words, a poem can’t stand.
It's a terrible feast with nothing but teeth,
a ravenous murder of beaks,
wearing a crown of featherless wings,
who once were sparrow kings.
Who needs to taste every good under evil tongues, there's
no need to know which flower grows each fawn, and
your black eyes unfrozen from the dark,
all good storms feed the lightning to the static heart.
Play me the song of birds that need no skies,
put me to sleepless dreams without lullabies,
a souless symphony that needs no bow,
a gift without a box, just your soul.
The wild skins will drum like elephant guns,
the treacherous ties of black suits,
the poor little pistols of rich little thieves,
who never find their youth.
Don’t say you love me, don’t you speak those hideous words,
its a slaughter for hides, to quaint to be overheard;
like skeleton houses, the corpses of the plains
like rivers once bent, the breathless reeds of drowning bands.
Play me the song of birds that need no skies,
put me to sleepless dreams without lullabies,
Souless symphonies that needs no bows,
a gift without a box, just your soul.
Lay down your eyes there’s no need to see what comes,
nothing can bring you the falls that knows no sun,
and who needs purpose in the way light touches land,
the lines of a paper can’t walk the words a poem can’t stand.
- Genre
- Acoustic
