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• Artiste: Magic Weapon
• Titre: Residue Hymns
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Is that just rust in the mist of your eye That lets out those bellowing sighs? Or is it just heads of cats in a bag moaning like ancient kings? They pound in cupboards that I forgot Humming their hymn of dusty echoes Spreading and staining throughout the night Shedding out galaxies bright and yellow That cannot be the one you want Nature forbidden Shifting slyly Joining a band of misers And these craters of doves are cooing blindly So tell all your ones and I'll tell all my ones That she lives off black moths at night She's having a seizure in dark alleyways and she's Coughing up globs of light So you've got these rusty homes And I've got these bags of bones You'd stab all my fears with invisible spears And yet, you do have none Is that just rust in the mist of your eye? Is it just that that bellows and sighs? She's got the heads of cats in a bag I'm late for the Residue Hymns Now I'm here, but I don't see them