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from Deathcrux by Darius Greene

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lyrics

HOME

We’re tall.
Like shadows of the threadbare trees.
Lost without a home or key.
We miss it like the flowers miss the bees.

We’ve cried
Rusted down by dreams of home
the witches like the ride their skulls
to see if there’s a heaven in the bottom of it all

We’re lost.
Lost without a way to know.
we call heaven but there’s no ones ever home.
But the witches like the ride their skulls.

We sing our songs with the little ones that flap and fuss—
who made their nests in the hollow part in each of us,
the mighty tones of the little ones with hollow bones.

cut down the noise with some honey oil
flashing lights on. flashing lights out.

We’ve cried
our eyes are rusted red and worn
We miss it like the apples miss the worms.
We thought we had it worst of all.

We’re thin
our shadows like the tall dead pines
the glitches like the ride their spines
to see if there’s a signal in the static on the line

We’re lost
the radiators burned their blues.
for home that’s only dust and fumes
but the witches like to tap their spines

cut down the pain with some poison oil
flashing lights on. flashing lights out.

So tall.
Our Home was like the shadows on the stones.
we’re eroded by our rusted tears and moans
and heaven never calls us on the phone

Move on.
Lost without a useless key or home.
We miss it like the grasses miss the snow.
Thought we had the worst but didn’t know.

We’ve cried.
Marching with the out black eyes.
Heaven’s just a white electric lie, a little static peace of mind.

We sing our songs with the lightly ones that flap and fuss
who make their nests in the hollow part in each of us
the deep songs of the little-bitty hollow boned kings

We’re tall.
As tall as all the dead rains bow.
We miss it like the grasses miss the snow.
We thought we’d always have a little home to know.

We’re lost.
There is never sign of heaven or home
The witches like to ride their skulls.
To see if they can hear it in the static on the phone.
The witches like to ride their skulls.
They call and call but no one’s ever home.
The glitches like to tap their spines.
They call but heaven’s never on the line.
We call and call but no one’s ever home.
We walk and walk without a key or home.
Our tears erode the rusted dreams of home.
we call and call but no one’s ever home.
We call and call but no one’s ever home.
No one’s ever home.
No one’s ever home.

credits

from Deathcrux, released March 23, 2017

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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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