It calls to me, my minds eye is rotting, it feels like water is rushing over me. The demons start to speak, their mouths will cut me on this day of rest, preservation to the lips.
Formation embodied expressed through teachings, thoughts, transformation into words.
Our ancestors tell us we live a transitory existence,
the candles were all extinguished as modified minds go cross eyed, blinking to a hidden message.
Don't push on me, my body is bleeding, the blood will feel the markings on the floor. It will run from door to door as open hands scream.
credits
from Trablue,
track released January 1, 2010
Justin Trabue. Acoustic guitar, Electric guitar, Bass vocals. James Cello. Piano, Moog little phatte. John Dowey. Dobro and violin.
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