MewithoutYou - Blue Hen lyrics
[MewithoutYou - Blue Hen lyrics]
Fires of the lighthouse burning in the bay
Waters of the sound sleeping through the day
Ostrich of the night half buried in the sand
Nearer comes the man, sickle in hand
Battles in the back seat, soap box car
Black-bolt lightning car -I don't
Care who you are
Fires of the lighthouse, sound of the guitar
Far beyond a cure far beneath regard
("Things without all the remedy should
Be without regard" -Lady Macbeth)
Death where is thy sting?
In the trails of Sunfish sails
And curve stitch string?
Black mass ghosts of half-chewed hosts
Off the Henlopen coast
In the saltwater spring
Death: You arrive washed up in the tide
Normally alive with your consolation boots
Of Spanish inquisition eyes
Prancing around the stage at
Your advancing age
Offering stale communion to the
Presbyters of time?
Cousins on the swing set
Rabbit's in the grass:
Is it too much to ask to reproduce the past?
Stories of the Ice Boat No3
Wreck kept us warm
Sheltered from storm on the ocean floor
And in the morning
We rest in Corinthian headdress
On couches of ivory
And wake in the moonlight
Like badgers at midnight
To friends made in factories somewhere
You'll know where to find us
Our best years behind us
Barefooted pilgrims at shrines of our youth:
'Our joy was electric
Our circles concentric'
Converging on statues of permanence
Death where is thy sting?
You ought to put more thought
Into what you bravely sing
Aft mast ships of straw-short bricks
You'll soon see exactly where my victory is
The spring to it's slumber
Your lighthouses black like virginal slumber
I'll break like the lap
Of your Delaware shore your Blue Hen remains
Will dissolve at my door
Like a teaspoon of salt in the rain
And I'll wrap up your absence
In blankets of reverence a mastodon shadow
Divided by zero and comfort your family
With words like eternity
And friends made in factories somewhere
Waters of the sound sleeping through the day
Ostrich of the night half buried in the sand
Nearer comes the man, sickle in hand
Battles in the back seat, soap box car
Black-bolt lightning car -I don't
Care who you are
Fires of the lighthouse, sound of the guitar
Far beyond a cure far beneath regard
("Things without all the remedy should
Be without regard" -Lady Macbeth)
Death where is thy sting?
In the trails of Sunfish sails
And curve stitch string?
Black mass ghosts of half-chewed hosts
Off the Henlopen coast
In the saltwater spring
Death: You arrive washed up in the tide
Normally alive with your consolation boots
Of Spanish inquisition eyes
Prancing around the stage at
Your advancing age
Offering stale communion to the
Presbyters of time?
Cousins on the swing set
Rabbit's in the grass:
Is it too much to ask to reproduce the past?
Stories of the Ice Boat No3
Wreck kept us warm
Sheltered from storm on the ocean floor
And in the morning
We rest in Corinthian headdress
On couches of ivory
And wake in the moonlight
Like badgers at midnight
To friends made in factories somewhere
You'll know where to find us
Our best years behind us
Barefooted pilgrims at shrines of our youth:
'Our joy was electric
Our circles concentric'
Converging on statues of permanence
Death where is thy sting?
You ought to put more thought
Into what you bravely sing
Aft mast ships of straw-short bricks
You'll soon see exactly where my victory is
The spring to it's slumber
Your lighthouses black like virginal slumber
I'll break like the lap
Of your Delaware shore your Blue Hen remains
Will dissolve at my door
Like a teaspoon of salt in the rain
And I'll wrap up your absence
In blankets of reverence a mastodon shadow
Divided by zero and comfort your family
With words like eternity
And friends made in factories somewhere