Themselves - DeadCatClearII lyrics

I never swung a wooden sword at slow bees
Kept something dying in a box beneath
A bed my father’s father built neath me
Never fed a mare honey nor seed from my hands
Or held a harp… these things would melt me
And then, they would have wung me

Doth the dark precede you
Or simply punk you near ledge, treasure
And lover in your swift and ample
Doth You stay this sort of motherfucker

You were amiss before stained glass
Its punishments never pointed at you
Yet you held on bare legs the news paper
Cured body of a deadened cat

Below a porch beside a boulevard
And in all that softening dark
You would return to see it’s sucked flesh
Pulled by days of dirt and


Degrade from the gentle
Center of it's lower jaw

And you saw
All that was soft to it now had left
Only Eyeholes, claw and cracking flesh

And it was beautiful before you
Made you cry and beg for
What the day entrusts you
Made you cry and harden

Finally you’d been given answers
You could understand

You in the lowlight it in the dark

The coal below all rules and human hides
Blew white before you in your boyhood


It’s become dead cat clear
I strap no gat to bring the sun back

Yet you never pet tarantula by blacklight
By a knife collection
Never took your father’s belt
Across your face
Mother’s disease into your breast
And were you asked at such young age
To spend a year of weeks
Beneath the earth asleep beside either
Of your grandfathers gone, you would have

They say the first year of
Decomposition is most noticeable
Much like and infant quickens
To it's future self
And you would talk to their husks in
The wheeze of your sleep child chest
And give them grace as they
Fall to a simpler thing
Of compounds and languaglessness

Where things are slowed respectfully
Respectively… where clear it goes

Tonguing a loose tooth for the
Blood taste from your gums
Thinking in child alchemy, free of your sum
Free of your numbs
Your eyes grinding light from
The dark’s slights
Weaving what’s leaking through the
Porch wood into sight

When last you met your pet with death
You slipped two triple A’s
Into it's brittle throat
Wrapped it in newer news
Print with your hopes… and buried it forever
In a ply of fading press
And yankee boxscores or… as forever

As decomposition takes it