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dappled people - blue columbine

son, tell your feet / tell your feet not to hurry / let them be / let them season like pine and blue columbine / let them lie // son, tell your hands / tell your hands they’re too heavy / how they carry the air / as if air were a stone or a spear / let them spare me / spare me my only heart // fill your breast like a beaten hull / or take the metal off / silver, bronze, or tin, or gold / or cold, cold copper to cover what you ought not // you’ll have your turn / have no thirst but your brother’s / pass the urn and the earthenware cup / when the first’s had enough you’ll have some // but have no pride / have no pride but what’s offered / how you rise from the wine / as if wine were his shield or his shrine / how you shy from him / you shy from my only heart // 

…

This is garageband, this afternoon in my bedroom. I’ve been fighting off a sinus infection the last couple of weeks, but I took some zicam and laid down the guitar track in one take, which is pretty ridiculous, because I never ever play this song anywhere near correctly. I’ve been doing a scratch track a day just as practice; maybe it’s paying off.

Notes

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