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lyrics

We are cut from the same cloth, bursting loss in form and void, but I’m still sitting drunk in Saint Germain looking at the wooden caste of jesus whose eyes have grown dark with rot. The bronze age brought on newer harder ways. We can go back to the hostel and keep on drinking and stand in silence dancing for two more days. The best part for transience is losing whats inside you, we can revolt on self with Paris in the spring. Wraith is sitting on the clock, his whole ephemeral self is shaking, involved but only reminding me of things I’d forgot. The tower lit up like Berlin reminding me of what was lost while my two remaining limbs detach with breeze. But we can go back to Portland come the summer where we can stare in silence till it rains. The best part of being home is realizing that nothing could be lost so long as body’s obsolete in loving things.

credits

from leaving the place where you realized life was beautiful and becoming human again, released September 29, 2016

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