Mount Eerie - Ravens lyrics
[Mount Eerie - Ravens lyrics]
In October 2015, I was out in the yard
I'd just finished splitting up the
Scrap two-by-fours into kindling
I glanced up at the half-moon, pink
Chill refinery cloud light
Two big black birds flew over
Their wings whooshing and low
Two ravens, but only two
Their black feathers tinted in the sunset
I knew these birds were omens but
Of what I wasn't sure
They were flying out toward the island
Where we hoped to move
You were probably inside, you
Were probably aching, wanting not to die
Your body transformed
I couldn't bear to look so
I turned my head west, like an early death
Now I can only see you on
The fridge in lifeless pictures
And in every dream I have at night
And in every room I walk into
Like here, where I sit the next October
Still seeing your eyes
Pleading and afraid, full of love
Calling out from another place
Because you're not here
I watched you die in this room
Then I gave your clothes away
I'm sorry, I had to, and now I'll move
I will move with our daughter
We will ride over water
With your ghost underneath the boat
What was you is now burnt bones
And I cannot be at home
I'm running, grief flailing
The second time I went to Haida Gwaii
Was just me and our daughter
Only one month after you died
My face was still contorted
Driving up and down, boots wet inside
Aimless and weeping
I needed to return to the place
Where we discovered that childless
We could blanket ourselves in the moss
There for our long lives
But when we came home, you were pregnant
And then our life together was not long
You had cancer and you were killed
And I'm left living like this
Crying on the logging roads with
Your ashes in a jar
Thinking about the things I'll tell you
When you get back from wherever
It is that you've gone
But then I remember death is real
And I'm still here in
Masset, it's August 12th, 2016
You've been dead for one
Month and three days
And we are sleeping in the forest
There is sand still in the
Blankets from the beach
Where we released you from the jar
When we wake up
All the clothes that we left out
Are cold and damp just
From the air permeating, the ground opens up
Surrounded by growth nurse logs with
Layers of moss and life
Young cedars, the sound of
Water, thick salal
And god-like huckleberries
The ground absorbs and
Remakes whatever falls, nothing dies here
But here is where I came to grieve, to
Dive into it with you, with your absence
But I keep picking you berries
I'd just finished splitting up the
Scrap two-by-fours into kindling
I glanced up at the half-moon, pink
Chill refinery cloud light
Two big black birds flew over
Their wings whooshing and low
Two ravens, but only two
Their black feathers tinted in the sunset
I knew these birds were omens but
Of what I wasn't sure
They were flying out toward the island
Where we hoped to move
You were probably inside, you
Were probably aching, wanting not to die
Your body transformed
I couldn't bear to look so
I turned my head west, like an early death
Now I can only see you on
The fridge in lifeless pictures
And in every dream I have at night
And in every room I walk into
Like here, where I sit the next October
Still seeing your eyes
Pleading and afraid, full of love
Calling out from another place
Because you're not here
I watched you die in this room
Then I gave your clothes away
I'm sorry, I had to, and now I'll move
I will move with our daughter
We will ride over water
With your ghost underneath the boat
What was you is now burnt bones
And I cannot be at home
I'm running, grief flailing
The second time I went to Haida Gwaii
Was just me and our daughter
Only one month after you died
My face was still contorted
Driving up and down, boots wet inside
Aimless and weeping
I needed to return to the place
Where we discovered that childless
We could blanket ourselves in the moss
There for our long lives
But when we came home, you were pregnant
And then our life together was not long
You had cancer and you were killed
And I'm left living like this
Crying on the logging roads with
Your ashes in a jar
Thinking about the things I'll tell you
When you get back from wherever
It is that you've gone
But then I remember death is real
And I'm still here in
Masset, it's August 12th, 2016
You've been dead for one
Month and three days
And we are sleeping in the forest
There is sand still in the
Blankets from the beach
Where we released you from the jar
When we wake up
All the clothes that we left out
Are cold and damp just
From the air permeating, the ground opens up
Surrounded by growth nurse logs with
Layers of moss and life
Young cedars, the sound of
Water, thick salal
And god-like huckleberries
The ground absorbs and
Remakes whatever falls, nothing dies here
But here is where I came to grieve, to
Dive into it with you, with your absence
But I keep picking you berries