1. |
Respirare
00:52
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Un clamate, et nos incipere; a cry, and we begin
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2. |
New'ish Lament
04:59
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One of these days he'll come back home to us
One of these days he'll lose his sense of direction
Settle down, you're hysteric
You know he left it here
The binding and the feathers
The reams and all the letters
But, the words on every page are burnt
So it is that he roams
To withhold any sign of peace he might acquire
'Cause I can't help but feel he's grown wretched
Settle down, you're hysteric
You know I said it well
The binding and the feathers
The reams and all the letters
The words on every page are burnt
The banter better make him scurry up his own
Or he'll make believe that he's all better when he's not
And he's come to weigh
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3. |
Ramble
00:35
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4. |
The Beekeeper
03:35
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Well, you lost it, oh, the honeycomb home
And the keeper doesn't see past the embroidery of all the wood and cotton, oh, opacity
And if the keeper comes to see, he'll drop somber tones that hurt for you and me
I've come to recognize your part
Well, the keeper has got a thing for bees
And an honor, we commend, he left the two of us to tend
But we were weary and had grown asleep
Thus, the nurture we have shown leaves us solemnly alone and sans the hive
I've come to recognize your part
Well, there's the keeper
Coming around the bend
And he'll ask us, spoken softly
What we've done
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The Child of Eve Chicago, Illinois
ridiculous hairy creature torn apart by poetry
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