1. |
Ferment
03:58
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If you stop with enough time to
Let it all slow down in you
Let your arteries grow cold
Their walls shift into a mold
It’ll stretch from limb to limb
You’ll pour from end to end
Fill yourself up, stagnate and
Well up, pool, ferment
If you tear your hands apart in two
Will everything else come unglued?
Sell yourself for what you’ve found
Keep an ear close to the ground
Turn your face at the thought it
You’ll pour out between each rib
Fill yourself up, stagnate and
Well up, pool, ferment
When did your words say,
“We are who you became,
Trade yourself for your choice of vice
It's laced in with the advice"?
Save face, claim it’s only mild
Present yourself any shade of vile
Crowded out, no room here left to breathe
After all this time, still chasing every need
When did your words say,
“We are who you became,
Trade yourself for your choice of vice
It's laced in with the advice"?
Save face, claim it’s only mild
Present yourself any shade of vile
You’ll pour out from end to end
You’ll pour out between each rib
If you don’t, well up, pool, ferment
You'll well up, pool, ferment
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2. |
Gather
03:50
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If you gather all your evidence, it'll boil down into whatever you planned for yourself
Don't lead your mind to confiscate some bright illusions,
You might turn to believe them
When you step outside for a brief look down,
It's a deluge of the sacred
I can't gather what they've seen
With constant calls for clarity
If I claim what is right, will I turn and fail to gather the words from your mouth
I can replicate the sounds enough to follow,
But the tone is paper thin
If your eye won't seek mine, will I label you blind, drop my hands and run away from your side?
When you step outside for a brief look down,
It's a deluge of the sacred
I can't gather what they've seen
With constant calls for clarity
Are you worth what I'm dying to be?
Is this worth what we're fighting to see?
These are standards you and I cannot meet with constant calls for clarity.
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Khamsin Nashville, Tennessee
A digit-cracking superstition, lying on the pavement, sticking to our slingshots and stones.
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