When I get afraid I start moving in lines,
Cycling all day down the side of the highway,
My knuckles turn red as I pass the industry,
The great plumes of smoke, they mean everything to me.
I crested the hill and my legs went to sleep,
but downhill is easy you just need to keep
your head and your arms in a tight ball around
the body your parents said you should take more care for.
But you gave up waiting on the weather;
you know there's no better way to catch yourself a cold,
and with one word pending on disaster,
see it written on the faces of the people walking dogs.
Now it gets cold, and we're all autumn leaves and frozen bones,
we'll be hiding watching like we're pick-pocket thieves of character.
And when you look back,
you'll see a burning mass of syntax stacks,
and you'll say ten billion things that won't cohere,
or make sense to you or me.
You'll say we've given up waiting on the weather,
we know there's no better way to catch ourselves a cold,
and with one word pending on disaster,
see it written on the faces of the people walking dogs.
In the park, by the steelworks, in the evening
there is a cold taste in the air.
It's metallic, it's panicked, and it's hanging on the tongues
of the people and their dogs.
credits
from Everything Is Fireworks,
released July 28, 2015
Mell Jones, is the female vocalist you can hear. She's really cool.
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