Decomposure - Black Snow lyrics

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Decomposure - Black Snow

Pan up from the ocean.

pushed like icewhite hands in winter water

stasis chasing hiscores in a forgotten arcade

skipping pale before a blue screen of death

and short breath and marshlands old to pave and push live freeways

carry my air wherever i sleep on a spit in a fatsuit

a set of split quotes fleeing cold from my back in a hot mute panic

pinned selfconscious as a ***** turtle.

there is no doing left.

bloodhounds inert in electrified cages, asymmetrical warfare

sidescrolling through an abandoned city’s sprawl

crossing clouds when they can see your breath and tracks

bowed heads and thinning thumbs piled up at a dead end

snow from a tired brown sky, an hourglass with no neck

on the dogleg consulting a heineken for marriage advice

where there be dragons, elves against mice,

are taglines disguised as songs.

why ask what year it is?

bright beige food, footage of accidents in video loops

when they began using their lifetime passes, dancing with the coals

confined to grids, limited to perfection

trackback to fill in the tendons

i am a white male in my late twenties, so it has already been said.

it will not end, it will not come back, like a dog in the city,

like the first time you drove through a place you’ll be moving to

not many are fortunate enough to sleep without dreaming,

most have to live with themselves their entire life

Walk out on the ice floe

the distance dark with black snow

Sailor bailing out the boat with wood salvaged from the hole

frogger stuck with dead controls, out of time without setting foot on the road

soldier in a cave alone telegraphing codes into an empty ocean

shredded hands pulling the rope, it wouldn’t hurt so much

if you would only let go

Breath is boiled bodily steam hissing from a sealed stovepipe

sprouting from iron lungs fired by the corpse of grizzled grey bird coal

each sunset a railway tie, each rail a thin strip sliced from sinew and skeleton

given crescendo, all conspiracy and no resolution, a forever storm

told the circle of the earth would roll endlessly without edges to fall from

so i busied myself painting a mural of the sunset to hang behind our graduation

and devised my parting precocious words

from all the borrowed humble grandiosity i could scrape together

while feathers were plucked from the hollow earth

burnt quills’ circling smoke sucked into its byzantine mechanical heart

howling whirls of special promising ash tracing the contours of crushed snails

down the entertainment dream inhale floured in possibility’s machinations,

lineart sunrises and daily affirmations

eagerly biting shiny nickels rendered from the *****less soot exhaled

from a cagesheltered chorus of blackthroated children calling for another

against the growl of their collective stomach’s engine

threshing entropy to progress and powerlines, sustained by treats.

hope as a veneer of young learned sarcasm

a molasses desert slowscaling permanent torsos

taped together my former split jaw (though not literally of course)

like i’ve been engraving on winter night for weeks

blueinking sleeves i cannot wear on days that don’t exist

a peeled jar bleached and filled with soil, sprout planted and growing

thumb on the scale and the same wait as i could reach back through the fog

stolen north, tracks laid and mortgaged to a clear pinched forcedperspective

painted on a wall in a bathroom stall

trying to scratch a reply to myself on the wall,

but i don’t have fingernails, and one by one the lightbulbs are burning out

the settling ether, old men eating breakfast,

the fog of summer mornings rubbing along blue streets

finally scattering against the burning disc of the sun

a long drape shuddering its last wide sigh for the warmth of its final petals unfolding

Kids drink grape juice, grownups drink wine

one who knows only sweetness remains a child