1. |
Strings That Hold You
05:21
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I can see the strings that hold you upright
glisten when you walk like spiderwebs
I can see his lips move when you're talkin'
I've heard all your jokes before
they're his! they're his!
when he's drinkin' liquor from your bottle
I'm surprised that you can even talk
when he's got you laid out on your mattress
I'm surprised that you can even walk
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2. |
Beach (Forever)
08:02
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softest grey of softest blue
of softest black of softest blue
nothing
today to do
on the beach
where I can stay
forever
forever
forever
softest blue of softest black
water pulling seashells back
we will keep on coming back
forever
forever
forever
you and I
sang songs with seashells in a dream
we left our home on the beach
when we returned
seashell gramophones
stained with piss and wind
I wake up, I still have you there
on the beach
our seashell song
ringing in my ears
forever
forever
forever
softest blue of softest black
water pulling seashells back
we will keep on coming back
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3. |
Gloria
05:43
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Gloria, Gloria
how could they know?
it was in the blood
it was in the blood
skin of oil sheen
and blood of ammonia
how could they know?
it was in the blood
it was in the blood
Gloria, Gloria
Gloria, Gloria
garlic hissing from your nostrils
draw the blood, check the blood
how could they know?
it was in the blood
it was in the blood
skin of oil sheen
and blood of ammonia
how could they know?
Gloria, Gloria
Gloria, Gloria
how could they know?
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4. |
Gulls
03:09
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when the gulls crack and whistle
children flow into each other
spitting and coughing like a river running
I am watching them
from above
I am watching them from above
my hands turn to branches
calcified bell from the bone
I am older with every toll
when the gulls crack and whistle
children flow into each other
spitting and coughing like a river running
I am watching them
from above
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5. |
"The Bowl"
14:54
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"It's a long, long way to the lip of "The Bowl"
and it's getting farther
the closer it seems to be
and amidst this inuksuk Guernica
is a small girl whistling
and waiting for me.
In silence of stone,
her hair, flesh, and bone,
tattooed with the stench of the sea,
she lives in "The Bowl,"
our Tablelands home,
still waiting forever for me.
As the days turn to years turn to stone in The Bowl
I'm drinkin' in Georgetown
Still Michelle sifts through shards splintering.
She knows "The Bowl" like the back of her hand.
Kisses every boulder
as the snowcaps flow tears shimmering.
She can tell by the rocks
that I'm here on the docks
with an ear to the wind, listening
for her whistling.
She lives in "The Bowl,"
our Tablelands home,
awaiting the coming of spring.
I'm dreaming a dream that I'm back in "The Bowl"
and it's getting harder
to remember what's real to me,
but if I make it to spring, I'll be bound;
with the trickling water,
I'll return with a thin silver ring.
But the road is so long
to "The Bowl" from St. John's,
walking backwards with a cross and a ring.
I can hear pretty well,
but it's getting harder to tell
if Michelle is still whistlin' for me.
In silence of stone,
her hair, flesh, and bone,
tattooed with the stench of the sea,
she lives in "The Bowl,"
our Tablelands home,
still whistling and waiting
forever.
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