Cross her off the short list, my blood is a reckoning at birth, no way we'll be lit by the bridges we burn. And come tornado, carry me away from the craft, ruffle my hair and my body in love. As the cutlass came down on a Saturday night, left an unplanted field, left my daughter and wife. Called away into service for a clerical life, left an unplanted field, left my daughter and wife, oh.
Thought I was a sad boy, now I know I know I know I was wrong, since you came along I can see how content I can be. It'll drive a man crazy to wage from the outside in, but I have a plan, it's a trick with a prick of a pin. Oh and as the cutlass came down on a Saturday night, left an unplanted field, left my daughter and wife. Called away into service for a clerical life, left an unplanted field, left my daughter and wife.
For a man can be bought, and a man can be sold, and the price of a hundred thousand unwanted souls, oh.
2. Keep the dog quiet.
My body is a cage, this union is a cage, about a cage, about a cage. And this, and this town too, I'll see you once in a while but I can't be seen with you. This place is a narrative mess, a floor of tangle of bedsheets and battered sundress. The ink has dried in the well, the journey once was consequential, you're sequential, sequential, sequential, sequential.
When will you silence your hounds? The eldest sons to the alter of the Eternal Sound. Their blood is spilled at the dawn, a nation bound to your will, still a violin plays on. Plays its devotional song, once it was, once it was so essential, you're sequential, sequential, sequential, sequential.
3. Mount Alpentine.
The art of loss of mind, we will climb the side of Alpentine. The art of want of mind, even more, some satisfactions. My mind is not caught in the nature of your actions.
4. Red sun no. 5.
I am living through days, carrying no burden, but the shit of cattle and my resignation. Until the sun grows crimson, crept across my limbs and.
I saw that the were earthen, that they decade and worsen.
And From my ginger chest, there came the sound of thunder, I am not a father, I am not a farmer.
I tremble to speak of it, held her in my arms and pressed her to my heart and, pressed my hand o'er her lips. I'll murmured words of his love, I will be his baron, with him I have an ending, with him I have a completion, and the cover of night.
5. Lewis takes action.
I got a message for the acolytes, I am your man for wifey fight. I got a thirsty for liquid gold, I'll bludgeon 'til the body's cold. The stony hiss of cockatrice has cast us into serfdom, I close my eyes and spur Imelda down the mountainside, for a liberated Spectrum.
I took a no-face by the beak, and broke his jaw, he'll never speak again. I took a no-face by the beak, and broke his jaw, he'll never speak again.
My every move is guided by the bidding of the singer, the night is split by the whistle of my amber whip, and the fire from my fingers.
6. The great elsewhere.
Talking, what's it good for? Absolutely nothing. Wrestle, let's wrestle, you can pin me to anything. Thought I saw you in my tea leaves, thought I saw you in a forest flame. I'll fill up the silence with the sound of your holy name.
Knowledge of the sea-ways, knowledge of how the water flows, whoever coined the phrase has never had to brave the snow. I climbed the shroud to the top-sail and I peeked through the glass, the curvature bisected by the wintry mizzen mast.
The scar upon my stomach, I call it my Flying V, and every time I show it I can feel your eyes on me. How many islands will surrender to the blunderbuss? And how long must we sail before you show your face to us?
Followed him out to the end of the pier, "Don't come any closer," he cried, “I am afraid, of the man I'll become if I lay my life down for a people that I don't even care for.” Face to his face, I put my hand into his and I tried to tell him, "No, I've seen his work upon the panes of cathedrals, in the sweat of the workers and the flight of the seagulls."
My words were drowned out by the sound of the motors and rowers, the ship as it ran aground, and from the trees came a thousand soldiers. I went down on my knees with a spear in my shoulder. About face, about face, I swam back to the Victoria. I shiver with the memory, memory of the island dwellers, and the indifferences of the storyteller.
7. Oh Heartland, up yours!
The stars collected each world accounted for, freed all the children, seems there is nothing more. If I only had a rowboat I would row it up to heaven, and if heaven would not have me I would take the other option, I will seek out my own satisfaction.
From the wine lying the bedroom to the priest with his broken arrows, there's a method to the madness, they will feign an expression of sadness. A called cattle-nation of locusts, and the farmers are losing their focus. On the pitch of Avenroe grasses, I will sing sing sing to the masses. Oh Heartland, up yours.
The hollow voice of, of fourteenth century, too much assumption to be taken seriously, on the road like a Disney kid in cutoffs and a beater. With a feathered fringe, it doesn't suit a simonia greeter. Doesn't work, doesn't fly, doesn't handle.
From the wine lying the bedroom to the priest with his broken arrows, there's a method to the madness, they will feign an expression of sadness. A called cattle-nation of locusts and the farmers are losing their focus. On the pitch of the avenue grasses, I will sing sing sing to the masses. Oh Heartland, up yours. Oh violent lent violent lent violent lent…
I will not sing your praises, I will not sing your praises here. I will not sing your praises, I will not sing your praises here. I will not sing your praises, I will not sing your praises, I will not sing your praises, I will not sing your praises here.
8. Lewis takes off his shirt.
As soon as I got on the horse I forgot about the map, forgot about the odds against an adolescent standing up to all of Owen's wrath. The heat of prairie summer is impossible to take, I grab the hem and lift the fabric over my sweet head. I know what you're looking for and I'm never going to give it to you… (x6)
Government rule established by a dazzling light show, a hegemony armored with a thousand-watt head and seven inches of echo, I'm keeping my velocity, my spurs are in her sides. I don't know what I'm doing, and it is the only way. Toward the range I'll ride, singing, I'm never going to give it to you… (x6)
"I am overrated," said the sculptress to the sea, "I've been praised for all the ways the marble leaves the man and I was wrong to try and free him". And as for me, I am a vector, I am muscle, I am bone, the sun upon my shoulders and the horse between my legs. This is all I know, my senses are bedazzled by the parallax of the road, I concentrate to keep contained the overflow. My knuckles grip so tightly, my fingers start to bleed, if what I have is what you need, I'm never going to give it to you… (x12)
9. Flare gun.
The wella woods of Belvedere, the peat and moss of Avenroe. St. Germain's canaries, the fortress of Alpentine, oh, my soul! my loyalty is to the East and Spectral man, and bird, and beast.
Red soil for the taking, ruddy women for your brides. All good men of valourous heart, consider a new start, and sail today for the Heartland!
10. E is for estranged.
Boys run like water from the barrow to the trough, they'll never stop their running, gunning for their brothers. This house is a hostel, it is peaceful but it's always emptying, boys all want to be someone.
Haven't you heard? I am a flightless bird, I am a liar, feeding the facts to false fires. If Pathos is born, born out of bullshit, in formal attire, but I'll score your string ensemble.
I saw my son at seventeen, the shutters made projections on his naked frame. But now at twenty-five, he simply cannot stay away from the ketamine. With make-up on his sores, he spends an hour a day composing his own eulogy. Sometimes he sends me letters, but they're mostly garbled phrases and apologies.
Haven't you heard? I am a flightless bird, I am a liar, feeding the facts to false fires. If Pathos is born, born out of bullshit, in formal attire, cue the Bulgarian children's choir.
11. Tryst with Mephistopheles.
I stumbled on the summit's path. Clumsy, clumsy, no paragon am I, I can't even keep my shoes tied. I've been in love with Owen ever since, I heard the strains of Psalm 21. Standing between the choirs, as they sang, "Laudate Dominum, Laudate Dominum"
Damn, I wrote it down, but I left it in the pocket of my other jeans
Scrawled across the foolscap: "I don't know what your devotion means,
I don't know what your devotion means."
And up, upon the summit I can see the one I worshiped as a boy. The Creator, The Great White Noise, The Great White Noise. Charged and charging up the ridge, The chests are empty, the coffers too, they float in the flood, and so will you, I swear, so will you.
"Your light is spent! Your light is spent!" I cried as I drove the iron spike into Owen's eyes. The sun sped cross the plains like that cinematic moment where humanity and nature collide. When you think, "Everything's gonna be all right". Just before the hero gets a bullet in his side, the hero gets a bullet in his side.
Whizzing off the clifftop, listening for the spatter, thirty floors below. Down, down come the vultures, I will not be your fuel anymore. Now the author has been silenced, how will they ever decipher me? I hope they hear these words and are convinced you never even knew me.
I draw a bruise on your brawny shoulder, Scratch my fingers over your tattoos, the author has been removed.
12. What do you think will happen now?
The difficulties of my story, Despite discomforts, despite myself, I, I reaffirm my endless devotion to the belief that we're all of value, we're all of virtue. And so inclined we fill up our cups and toast to each other, and though I listen to the arguments that most divergent systems employ to.
Debilitate us, delineate us, repackage our words, demystify us, I unceasingly affirm my love can, cannot be measured, cannot be altered. I know, I know it, I do affirm it, with overzealous obscurantism, with every word and, with every gesture, I must express it, I can't define it, but all the same I know I can describe it.
(I walk o'er bridges and see the river a marble statue the sun has weather'd the stubbornness of the overgrowth and the old memorials covered in snow. We've written the way the universe will go, a righteous white horse, a man with a bow, a sharpened bit of the mistletoe. Scissors of fate or the fire of Surtur, though we're divided, the force of nature will put us all in the ground together)
This morning I must get up to see the world around me. Right away, what I forgot in seeing ourselves as words upon a paper The sun is up, my arms are wide, I am a good man, I am yours.
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Año: 2010.
Procedencia de la banda: Canadá.
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Procedencia de la banda: Canadá.
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