Dark Meat
Freedom Ritual
In the morning I'd wake up to rise,And I wouldn't know nothing but the shape of her eyes,Hear the dead wood rattling on the windowpane,Dark voice in the wind that recalled her name.Then: funeral music, funereal song,And the ghosts crushed the cul-de-sacs al the night long --Song-drunk, the death band hurled their breath toward the mornAnd the town changed forever, delivered by horns!The road from the town split the hills right in twoAnd those who felt fearful lit out two by twoAnd their children were left to measure the soundAnd feed the giant fires with the houses of town,They were flashes of flesh crashing housedoors down,Wine-drunk in the churchyards, climbing burial mounds,And the band marched in circles, continued the soundsOf ghosts gilding the name of the last living town!And, me, I was frightened by what stood at stakeStayed hidden in darkness like a pale poison snake,And I rose when her dark vision drowned me like lightAnd I rushed from my cellar to reclaim the night,And I took to the hills and I watched the place burnLetras de cancionesAnd the sound of it swelled like a satisfied wormAnd the band found an air in the gasps of the flameAnd then left as they played -- the way that they came!The wild children watched for them, but I knew it was overI turned to the highway, was renamed a rover:It be oncome the evening and oncome the townsI'll claw at the darkness in search of the sounds --As I pass by the gauntlets of tornapart fields,Dead wells by the wayside and jettisoned shields,I'll search for the sound, though it's never I'll find,And I'll die poor and hopeful with one color of mind!
From Letras Mania