1. |
a fine dead sound.
04:12
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2. |
in the time we lived in.
03:34
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3. |
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4. |
the winter subsides.
04:38
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5. |
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6. |
i’m far too sure.
03:56
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well western wind blew out her lips as she smoothed her dress across hips and everybody looked but no one smiled. the entire room around her creeped, a lonely telephone it beeped, the laws of man are easiest to escape. they got her cause she shot the gun, her body made the old men long for young girls. the women wanted her to hang cause she killed him cold and the lust she brings to their boys. her ruby lips and her long brown hair, her bright green eyes outshined the sky, it was gray. the entire town they took their part to stop the blood to her heart for the sake of god they knew she had to die. and the lampposts tell the story best of the prettiest girl ever to bless these streets. one dark night she drew that gun and she shot down that preacher’s son when his longing finally fell to rape. and who would believe a girl like her, put up against the dying word of the quarterback, of the baptist? so she will for his sins hang, in memories of borrowed shame, the clouds release bitter rain to sooth the red chapped lips of this dull earth to baptize us in her rebirth and as her killers we all shall share her pain. it’s rare you find both qualities, such purity and cold beauty and in collective jealousy, she’s a whore. it’s a rat race to heaven we’ll see who gets there before another, i ain’t a betting man, i’m far too sure for that.
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7. |
wayfaring stranger.
04:30
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8. |
dishabille.
01:42
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9. |
to repel ghosts.
03:23
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10. |
a holy piece.
02:37
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11. |
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