1. |
Cold
04:31
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Morning comes, with it the sun, but I can't pick me up from off this dirty ground.
Cold, but for the sick, sickly light of dawn. Shimmery, shivering, I'll wave my skinny arms around, sigh at my cigarette, try not to think about it.
Pink and bright, the light's a knife said to slice the gray away but I can't feel it today.
Pale fingers on my neck, whisper touches, honey-like, hovering, or is it concentrated breath? Sigh at my cigarette, try not to think about it.
Try not to think about it.
Try not to think about it.
Try not to think about it.
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2. |
Iron
03:39
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Don't it feel good to reach out for the sun and feel its warmth on your skin? I wanna feel its love all the time. But the god is dead and I killed it, basked in its glow for too long. Now a still snake on a boulder I turn its blood into power. Arrogance grasping at the rays.
Touched to the iron, it only burns in the light. Bright lust shining through it; it was never mine to hold in me.
I wanna feel its love all the time.
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Treadles New Orleans, Louisiana
no longer just a lump of coal
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