I’m Heaven’s pup, they’re Peter’s clowns, and
these molten roads, they ripple over submerged town-ships.
They’ve got a cough, he can’t denounce it, but
Those throaty hymnals heap the hunger from his gullet
The sun drowned in dreams of amber
His Father lived underneath our floorboards wedged in the wood-rot
We caved in, eaten by earthquakes
I asked a stone if he had known why the plates shifted.
I did some remodeling. So much better without Tennyson, but I love that motherfucker anyway. Now it’s my vocals and Keats, at the end.
and the video: