1. |
3010
02:13
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2. |
Horns & Hooves
02:57
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3. |
Illusions of Beauty
03:17
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4. |
Nobody Else
04:04
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5. |
Alone on the Moon
02:24
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6. |
Lake of Sorrow
03:46
|
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7. |
Hungry Shadows
02:44
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We have shears and knives to strip you of your shape,
There’s no light in our windows.
No glow in our caves.
Oh - why do sleep among the trees?
My - why do you sneak off with the trees!
Who put their lightning fingers over their black hole eyes,
they won’t look again at your heart’s suicide!
Why do you grow ugly wings and fangs?
Why do you hold and cling to every curve and name?
Everything we cut from you, everything we eat of you,
will only leave us wanting more and more and more and more...
And that old crow who ate the acorn’s belly whole
we put him down in the hole of a guitar amp, he drones
Ooooh! He screams and bellows out and sings for the world to go without!
These planets have no grace, no waving of sines,
who you orbit, who you king...woe us stupid things -
wild white tundras who criminalize the sun,
shapes cut from laughter, shapes come undone -
Everything we cut from you, everything we eat of you,
will only leave us wanting more and more and more and more...
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8. |
I've Gone Away
03:48
|
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9. |
Alone on the Moon (pt 2)
02:38
|
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10. |
Nothing
03:28
|
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There is no moon above.
There’s no clouds that weep.
There will never be a shadow or a falling leaf.
There is no blackness. There is no white or red.
No pining blue wave kissing sea in it’s rolling bed.
You won’t hear the sound of bells or bleats, no song of lark or tufty sheep.
There’s no heart which beats. No drums or sleep.
Not a dream. Not a door. Nor a mouse under your feet
There’s no one shaking.
There’s no one being told, that somebody still loves them
or there’s nothing left to hold.
There was no before, and there’ll be no after.
You were never here or there.
There is no hell below.
There’s no bliss or sacrifice.
There will never be a cruel touch or a poem that sighs.
There’s no magic spells.
No youth or getting old.
There’s no bargain being hunted or a sign that you’ve been sold.
There’s no tire swings or stings of angry wasps;
and there’s no days when you felt lost.
There are no sad, sad songs. There’s no reason to ever cry.
No one waves hello or packs their bags to say goodbye
There’s no sweet soft kiss to your ear, or your dry lips,
not a breath on your neck, or their finger on your hips.
There is no before and there’ll be no after.
You were never here or there,
or anywhere.
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Darius Greene Texas
Rhythmic tintinnabulary cabalettas inside soft baked fairy tale threnodies - lilting moontouched theremins, psychic lithographs of balloons - sleeping during dogwatch in the crosstrees by the languid moans of threadbare weatherboards - gritty euphonic lo-fi transmissions from long dead moon farms - the invocations from antique radios short circuiting in cool spring rain... ... more
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