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lyrics

Her still singing limbs turned away
to hide her face and lips and guilt among the trees,
Even their leaves, to haunt caves of the forest,
to feed her love on melancholy sorrow
Which sleepless turned her body to a shade,
first pale and wrinkled, then a sheet of air,
then bones to thin-worn rocks,
and lastly just the voice
vanished in forest,
far from walks on hills and valleys,
heard by all who call
Daughter of a voice

There is another

Built so I could say
I'm all alone
and someone would hear and echo
Rival of time
A place to put these things we do
And hold eyes to the past
Learn now and warn later
I would die before
[You give yourself to him]

Look up at the sky
The hours passing
Echoes down an empty cave
All the voices and shadows and photos of a sound
From a cliff in our garden
Flung back, and in the sky's blue care reborn

There is no cure for loneliness
But itself.
The wide glare of day?
Endless.

The night was luxurious.
And with it,
All your dead friends,
Who kept you warm.

But then the day begins
A car, a bird, the bell rings
"Wake up, sucker!"
The Happy People Are At Your Door!
This is the hour of smiles
This is the hour and there
are another twelve
that tell you:
"You have lost and will not recover
Your god is gone:
he is gone
forever.

The light is piercing
Even though
through the burnt holes of
your black curtains
will emerge
some sign of life
someone is passing
that knows your name
that someone
that you hate
that knows
you are awake.

Who will not leave you
because waking up
is all you do for most of the
day
BLACK TAPE IS GONE!
Where is it?

"Look again!"
Block the light
It burns your retina
It burns your brain
It burns your skin.

The shout of dawn:
"Find it!"
There..
"There it is."
Black-taped and
Whole again
the noise is louder
and there are people laughing
They are SAYING
'Good Morning!"
They are giddy minnows floating
atop a sea of dumbness.

The bell rings
And you smile
the smile of the man
who holds the key,
"Keep ringing buddy!"
They want to take you
Out of here
They know what's good for you
is anything but you

And you are rich
You are RICHER STILL
with knowing that your living death is a death with dreams...
that no
confidence man
can pry away

They may be all you have
these thoughts, these
memories, these dreams--these
hallucinations
of the things
you
could
have done,
what you
might

have
become
all just impossible but only
just
out of grasp.

The thought is the deed!
The deed is out of grasp!
Out of the fingers, sweaty
but
fully-fleshed
still comes to you
like a

gift
unwrapped.

And wise men know
that the thing is always better
than the thing
itself.

The bell
has stopped its ringing.
And there is another
roll of tape.
The minutes pass.
You have locked the windows:
There was a noise.

and now you are
airless
like a bat
with a human face.

It whispers.
"Once I was a fool
like you...
but having been forever scarred
by the smiles of stupid people
smile myself now
forever downwards
liek the smile of Death,
the great reliever.

For what is lonely
is really
just
lonely

for a

man.
Not

for

a


God.

credits

from Calling Whitetails to a Tuned Bow, released June 28, 2019

license

all rights reserved

tags

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