Letras
Rejoice, rejoice a noble birth!
A prince is born!
Behold the birth of violence,
Beasts of fang and feather cry for our concrete rapture.
And if we beg to be put down,
Unto us the most inspired storm.
A princess ravaged by her prince.
Behold: the birth of sex and distance,
Two frail corpses both were they,
His eyes were the first to stray.
Every tree held fast the earth to sky.
Concrete replaces every branch and twig
As they were frayed upon the birth of ambition.
The heavens filled our gilded vessel with poison tears.
Before we drink, I propose a toast, a final prayer:
"Here's to the watchers in the wood, here's to the last days."
Unto us a most inspired song.
Shaper, stop the music.
Halt the harp strings whose chords
Confuse our histories with textures.
With the disheartened chorus of a hymnal
Whose choir is the conviction of the starving.
Artless, tempted by the feast of proof
That this body, that this body of work has worth.
Uncertain as the fingering of a chord
Torn prematurely from a piano's womb.
As we fill our precious lungs with concrete,
That faithful shade, a shaper's song is stopped short.
A dying breath, a singing shore.
Then the only movement and the last remains of grace:
Pollen falling off the simple hinge,
Joint leg upon the final breath of a dragonfly.
A cardinal, lost but headstrong in mid flight cries for our concrete rapture.
Wade in the water, wade.
Wade in the water, wade.
Wade in the water, wade.
Wade in the water, wade.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.
Wade in the water,
Wade in the water, child.