1. |
Showpony
03:32
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I miss mosquitos following in -
sun streaks shining on the window.
From way back home,
I heard your voice,
ringing soft,
builds a shrine to your freedom.
Onwards speaks your inner monologue.
My eyes still flicker your reflection.
Watch Toronto disappear behind the hill,
let the stars collect you.
There go the birds for winter.
My blind
belief that I'd have time.
Show pony's boots to fill in
I'll keep the sails from tearing.
Passenger, your 911, pearl white.
Canopy pine cut up the blue sky,
lost service on the third night
and I still wanna call you back.
You were way back home,
breathing billows through the sea scape
you ripped the smokescreen off the highway.
Watch the beaches disappear behind the hill
let the stars collect you.
There go the birds for winter.
My blind
belief that I'd have time.
Show pony's boots to fill in
I'll keep the sails from tearing.
There's no forgetting.
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2. |
Busy Busy Busy
02:39
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We play back tapes of heyday
as the hours fold and blur like
torrents of blue in the high tide.
Who'd have thought it'd be the last time?
We're all born into the same god,
we all know careless when we see it
blurring into last rite.
Who'd have thought it'd be the last time?
It's a different era,
thumbs bleeding at the dial tone,
your name stitched through my mattress,
light tricks flick cross time zones.
L-skin up your atlas,
watch the city burn from a cell phone.
Your name became my mantra.
How many million miles in this road?
As plain as the myth of the beats -
city lights gleam,
after the batches are gone
after the fourth or the fifth
after the numbness wears off.
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Graeme Miller Leeds, UK
home grown 'n' messy
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