Thursday, September 17, 2009

Shacks

Bug bites on my head

Bell's polishing burned sand

A stranger is sometimes better than a weary friend

She shakes

Again, and again, and again


Shacks tremble in the swooping wind

Baby go to bed without a kiss

Dented cases holding feathers

Dream of parts that are gone forever

No one here to hold the ladder till the end


The preacher weeps on a tomb

passing age, healing cause

falling leaf, we dig until the core

The womb is warm but I'm on my own

Point the mast to the setting of the sun


I guess we ride

Sweet mountians sinch the row

Dream of whiskey and the next place we call home

The beating of your heart banging like a drum

Next waves sail right over

Amber waves we tumble on and on and on and on and on and on and on


Shacks tremble in the swooping wind

Baby go to bed without a kiss

Dented cases holding feathers

Dream of parts that are gone forever

No one here to hold the ladder in the end


2 comments:

  1. Would be cool to know what you thought of when you wrote it. Sounds familiar. Dented cases holding feathers: what does that mean when you say it. Can you tell?

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  2. Dori,
    I meant it in a couple of ways tied to the story. Dented cases holding feathers was my intentions nurturing her naivety. It also belongs as an anchor and placed in the chorus because the girl is gone (in death), blurry whiskey gleam and sailing away to the beat of my own death.

    Hope that makes the song more understandable!

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