Run like the dogs are at your heels
Run like the Earth’s on fire
Run like the wind is in your wheels
And the flames are growing higher
To melt your wings of desire
Chase the demons from your mind
Chase away your fears
But the past is never far behind
Almost close enough to hear
As it whispers in your ear:
Slow, slow sloe gin
Blackthorn pulled me in
Juniper’s a curse
The sugar makes it worse
Slow, slow sloe gin
Slow, slow sloe gin
Purple stained the skin
When we picked them in the fall
Now you ain’t here no more
Slow, slow sloe gin
I bring you love, blood, fish and bone
I bring you half of all I own
I’d bring you every seed I’ve sewn
To only know what you have known
Beneath your heart there is a hole
There is a moat around your soul
A hurt that doesn’t heal
A fear that doesn’t feel
A heart that doesn’t yield to care or warmth
These shoes tattered and old no longer in style
Tan leather uppers and soles they know my desires
They know I’m a liar
They know where I go
When low
These old friends of mine
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The felling of an oak that once stood tall a hundred years
The snapping of a sapling in it’s shade
The counting of the rings won’t tell for who the birds now sing
Or which tree leant more beauty to the glade
→ No CommentsTags:Blood Fish and Bone·Lyrics·What Every Mother Fears
Gazing at shadows that pass by in limbo
As my old aspidestra wilts by the window
No comfort, no paddle. Without inspiration
In sheer desperation I ask myself ‘What would she do?’
I ask ‘What would Susan do?’
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When I’m old
Praying each dream lasts forever
Make sure my bedclothes are clean
When I’m old
Don’t let me dwell on the weather
Or be uneccesarily mean
A certain type of man
WHO knows the answers
WHO won’t admit to any hint of doubt
I don’t know what scares me most
DO they know not what they DO or
DO they know exactly what they’re all about?
→ No CommentsTags:Blood Fish and Bone·Lyrics·Who Do They Think They Are?
Both lion-hunter and big-game
We sit and poke the fire
The smoke conceals all trace of shame
A frown conceals desire
What monsters here?
Just youthful fears
What passion’s here beneath open skies
Fear will help disguise
This is our dance
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Who bangs the gavel on your dreams?
Who picks the pocket of it's seams?
Who pays the piper, the drummer, the mover, the shaker
The butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker?
Who goes to market with nothing but beans?
