“The House We Grew Up In” available now on vinyl & No Sleep Records

"better him than me"

Luminescent, grandiose, a dying son in solemn prose
Silence blares, streetlights glare at the crowd of steel and modern marvel
Headlamps, steam and burning oil, a man of peeling skin, his martyr
And less and less and less and less blood

Stand proudly stone, unscathed, on scattered, broken pavement
"Better him than me," they'll say.  "Better him than me"

Swimming in grey and rose pedal red.  Black rubber scraped in the earth
Hopeful eyes and heavy hearts
A chill to the skin
A spectacle, inflicted wounds exposed, it shakes
Ill and white in the cage collapse
A twist in the red (sharp shards)
The makeshift bed, the man, the ambulance
A dying sun collapsed
All twisted up and thrown from this, unsafe, unsound

Head atop the pooling red, quickly under cooling flesh -tangled in a mess
Heavy eyes and hopeful heart, shattered glass and broken body parts
"Hold on the help is on the way," they say "the help is on the way"

Sinking in grey and rose pedal red
Deafening ring plays perfect pitch
with such elegance
cold bodies and cold cement
the time passers sing, taunting and loud
skeletons scream shake and shout
glass eyes dream of angels soaring up ahead
Let your eyes take a rest

A dying sun collapsed
all twisted up and thrown from this