1. |
Night Atlas
03:33
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The stars are different tonight.
No Big Dipper—
No Taurus the Bull,
Orion the Hunter,
Cassiopeia the Queen.
They glow green—
Sick and pale,
They look frail,
Ready to hail
Like sparks from a dark machine.
Slipping like butter
Out of the sky
To die in the dirt.
God, do I hurt—
Growing older and sickly
Too quickly
Out in the cold.
My body folds
In all the wrong places—
Lo! my father's face is
Before me now.
Somehow
I know he waits
At the oasis,
Gazing up at the places
Where there used to be stars
To show him where his children are.
Sing your boy to bed.
Kiss his breaking head.
Bring him to your breast.
Sing him through his rest.
He is beautiful—
Small and beautiful.
He could follow
Your voice forever,
Sleeping...
I remember smiling
Quietly at the sky—
The stars are alive—
I am four—maybe five—
On the shoulders of my father,
Warm in his armor,
Bolder than I
Have been before.
Facing north towards the shore
Where white waters pour—
My father roars:
The world is yours!
And it is eternal!
That was years
Before the infernal
Burning began
To torch the land—scorch the sand—
Erase any
Trace of direction.
Years before we lost
The stars' protection.
No connection can remain
Between us now.
The stars are taking their last bow.
Sing your boy awake
'Til your bodies break.
Clutch the burning skin.
Let the screaming in.
He is beautiful—
You are beautiful.
He could follow
Your voice forever,
Dreaming...
Sing me the shape of an atlas, that this
Body might survive through the night.
Sing me the shape of an atlas, that this
Body might still be alive
When you arrive,
Crying my name through the night—
Your eyes wet and wide
Like a young bride—
No trace of light in the sky—
The old Earth ready to die.
I will sing the shape of an atlas,
That this hand might take your hand
And we might cross the dead sand—
This land is endless
And this love will never end.
I will sing the shape of an atlas, that this
Body might make amends
Before the night ends
To each and every one of my absent friends.
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2. |
Homecoming
02:35
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I am coming home to Tokyo
For the first and final time—
From the dark abyssal slime,
I rise toward a shining shore.
I can't recall when I last tasted air
Or felt sunlight on my skin.
I suppose it must have been
Years before the ants made war—
And I don't want to be cold anymore.
I breach the surface and inhale the surf,
And unfold my limbs like sails,
Shake the water from my scales,
Opening my throat to sing.
I never thought that I could feel like this,
Roaring at the silver sun
As though this day were the first one.
Raise my wings on silver strings—
This world could never dream of such a king!
I am a mountain, proud and beautiful.
See me striding from the beach!
Hear the thunder of my speech!
I could destroy this world with joy.
There will be fireworks in Tokyo!
They shall blaze in monochrome
When the lizard king comes home,
Proud and poised on plastic toys.
The air shall split upon my savage noise.
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3. |
Firestarter
03:17
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I like
Little matchsticks—
It's a good noise
When they strike.
Matchsticks
Make for good toys—
It's the little joys
That I like.
I like
Boys who catch fire—
When they catch fire,
That's a sight.
The good boys
Let the old liar
Set them on fire—
That's his right!
God bless this light,
Perfectly bright,
Perfect and right...
I like
Liking my life.
I'm not like you—
I feel fine.
Your life
Looks a bit too
Baleful and blue
Beside mine.
Can't you
Just imagine
What it feels like,
Being me?
I feel
Like a Ferris wheel.
I am warm steel—
I am free.
Thank God I'm free—
And the Marquis—
Thank them for me!
Chorus
Well, I'm as happy as a little match boy could be
You'll burn like a pretty little man for me
Nothing better than to peddle my passion, see?
You'll see.
There's happiness in the obliteration of a body
Nothing better than to burn for Johnny
Nothing better than living honestly
Like me.
Would you
Dare escape me?
Would you dare, boy?
Would you, now?
You're my
Little fire-toy,
Something to destroy—
My sweet cow.
Don't you
Dare desert me—
Boy, I'll put you
Underground.
You know
I deserve to
Burn and bury you,
Bloody and bound.
Don't make a sound—
God wants you drowned
In holy ground!
Chorus 3x
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4. |
Hail King Lear
03:45
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From the storm
He rises like a revelation,
Staggering
Up and down the plain.
Behold this form,
Fallen from an antique nation—
Ancient and vain,
And utterly insane.
He is king,
And he holds absolute dominion
Over this
Rain-swept, barren field.
Behold him sing
His royal lunatic's opinion,
Too long concealed—
Now, by the rains, revealed.
He shrieks:
Am I not lord of this earth,
Clad in unspeakable worth?
Might I demand of the sky
The pains of some monstrous birth?
Or cry unto the thunder:
Rip thee asunder
All human wonder,
Invention and mirth,
Invention and mirth...
Thus he cries,
His white hair tearing in the bright air—
His posture bent,
Turning in toward the wind—
His crimson eyes
Like something stolen from a nightmare—
Limbs nearly skinned—
And hubris disciplined.
He speaks:
I have seen things in the weave
No mortal man would believe
And incarnations of hell
No devil would dare conceive
But none as sick as a daughter
Scheming to slaughter
Her father in the water
Of a midwinter's eve,
A midwinter's eve...
Blow now, storm,
And destroy every castle!
Scour the earth
Of every living thing!
Drown the swarm
Down to the very last vassal!
Torture and sting
The fool who was your king!
All heaven hail the king!
All heaven hail the king!
All heaven hail the king!
Hail the king!
Hail the king!
Hail the king!
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5. |
Mercy (I)
03:27
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She slices deep—the needle
Points at places under her skin
Deeper than she ever dreamed she'd
Reach—she's going in.
The meat is red—and thick with
Lines laid 'cross her length—the carpet's
Wet and soaking red—she screams with
Joy—her eyeballs spin.
Have mercy on this body, love.
It knows what you've been dreaming of.
It loves you perfectly, my friend.
This is not the end.
This is not the end.
The window's down—the whole world
Hears some shrieking girl—half crazy—
On the carpet—slowly ending—
We’re all listening in.
Have mercy on this body, love.
It knows what you've been dreaming of.
It loves you perfectly, my friend.
This is not the end.
Have mercy and endure this flood.
There's no great meaning in your blood.
God damn you, don't you dare ascend.
Don't you dare, my friend.
This is not the end.
Have mercy.
Have mercy.
Have mercy.
Have mercy.
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6. |
For Iago
02:49
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I will sing now of the Ensign,
How he took me as his wife
When I was young and fully foolish
And knew nothing of the ghoulish
Wicked wheels what make men sin,
Spinning in the skin of life—
I was young, and so I wed
A pretty boy whose eyes were dead.
It was easy to ignore
The little hints of imprecision,
Like the way he built his smile
As though his tongue had tasted bile.
It was easy to abhor
The doubts that dared befoul my vision
Of our darling little life—
The Ensign and his wife.
Chorus
I am imprisoned in your flesh, my darling.
Nobody knows your flesh like I do, darling.
I have begun to break it—
God knows I'll never make it—
But I am going to take you down
And down
And down
And down.
None ever loved me with such fire
As did the Ensign, when he loved me—
I would swear it was inhuman
How he never tired of rumin-
ating on each small desire
Of mine—nor tired of speaking of me
As a treasure and a prize—
The pleasure of his hollow eyes.
So when the bleedings were begun
I accepted them with stillness—
I surrendered to his bite
Without the barest hint of flight.
And my body was undone
As though disfigured by some illness
What devoured my very meat,
Excreted something sick and sweet.
I will sing now of my passion,
How I set my boy aflame—
How I showed him to his master
As a bastard and spellcaster
And destroyed him, in my fashion,
Though his dagger pierced my frame—
I have scorned his very name—
I have damned his soul to flame.
Chorus
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7. |
Underworld
04:50
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I was thinking about armor,
And my humble halfling farmer,
And the leather hide he wears
From a previous campaign—
Badly frayed, and needs repairs—
Yet his life and limbs remain,
Intact and free from pain.
(I was thinking about armor.)
I've done nineteen years alone now.
There's little I could claim I own now:
One soiled orange shirt,
One toilet, and one cot—
The way these old boys make me hurt,
The food they push me through the slot—
The rate at which all bodies rot.
(I've done nineteen years alone now.)
Chorus
There is a manticore in this dungeon,
And our company is falling to its claws.
But if even one companion
Rolls a twenty with a broadsword
We shall slay the beast with one stab through its jaws,
And steal the treasure from its paws,
To thunderous applause...
I was thinking about story—
The gory ways we all get glory:
How my ogre met my dwarf
In a tavern at sea's edge—
How they battled on the wharf,
Until satisfied to pledge
Their friendship, lying in the sedge.
(I was thinking about story.)
I deserve these years of silence
For my years of wicked violence.
This is a cruel preserve,
And my heart is naked ice.
And I deserve to lose my nerve,
Yet I carry some device—
Makes me make my paper dice.
(And I have nothing left but story.)
Chorus
I have nothing left but story.
Nothing lives inside but story.
I have nothing left but story.
Nothing lives in here but story.
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8. |
Flaregun
03:17
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As the ship lay sinking,
As the crimson flares flew blinking
Out of sight,
Beneath their useless light—
As the titan tilted upward,
As the captain’s chamber ruptured,
We were warm—
Naked, sweet, and safe from harm.
Two old lovers voyage westward
(Charming Frank, ill-tempered Esther)—
Poor and hungry, sometimes lovely
(Elderly, approaching ugly)—
Freckled hands undoing buttons
(Going to America clutching skin).
As the lifeboats left us,
As our vessel’s body cleft in two,
We rose.
On filthy sheets our current froze.
As we went down, you were shaking—
As our bodies stuttered, breaking
On the bed,
The current clutched and drowned us dead.
Two old lovers voyage downward
(His old body wrapped around her)—
Tumbling wetly—naked—silent
(Falling ‘mongst the cold and dying)—
Crimson flares above the ocean
(Old gods gather old devotion in).
Two old lovers voyage homeward
(Dragging bones across the boneyard)—
Bodies break apart and scatter
(Ladders of descending matter)—
Wasted—rotten—stiff and soaking
(Lovers love each other's broken skin).
As the ship lay dying,
As the crimson flares flew, flying
Out of sight,
We lit ourselves with crimson light.
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9. |
The Iceman Cometh
02:58
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I fall
And die
Like a cedar,
And the years
Erase
All that we were.
Excavate the ancestors:
Killers—kings—and jesters—
Corpses facing westward
Toward the holy hidden sea.
Come upon a carcass
In the frozen darkness—
Looks like you've found stardust
In the shape of me!
Chorus
These are my bones.
This is my smile.
These are my moans.
My blood and bile.
My spit and style
And fire-stones.
O holy bones!
So, slice
And scour
My insides,
And light
The holes
Where my sin hides.
All that's left of the old days:
Wretched flesh and a cold gaze—
The rest gone in the gold blaze
Of seven thousand years.
Fingers fumble for me,
Going under to gore me,
Enter and explore me—
Make me appear.
Chorus
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10. |
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Do you remember, ugly,
When I lived in your stomach—
A colorless little death
Sucking in your warm breath?
Do you remember this body
And the sounds it made,
Smothered in your meat,
Warm and sweet?
Do you remember, ugly,
When I cut up your belly,
Made a dark cavity
Filled with dark gravity?
And how you pulled your flesh open,
How you beckoned me
Into that black place,
The bitter space?
Chorus
Good luck getting away.
We marry today.
I’ll never leave your skin.
Good luck
Getting me unstuck—
Getting away.
Do you remember, ugly,
How we prepared our bodies?
When the needles came
We spoke our secret name.
And how they sewed us together,
How we screamed with joy
Through the flood
Of bile and blood.
Oh God, we felt so lovely—
Do you remember, ugly?
Lumbering underground,
We made our secret sound.
And how we steered ourselves over
The ocean, towards shores
Never seen,
Bright and very green.
Chorus 3x
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11. |
Epilogue
03:11
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You called me after twelve
Too drunk to speak,
Shrieking in the park.
You needed somebody
To drag your weak
Body through the dark.
Everybody knows your stink.
Everybody sees you sink.
Everybody’s too scared to blink.
I stood inside my flesh
And shut my eyes
Very, very tight.
And all the bones inside
Began to rise,
Roaring for the light.
Everybody wants you hurt.
Oh, the bile soaks your skirt.
You are gonna learn the taste of dirt.
Chorus
And no one ever wanted you—
Nobody ever needed to.
So bleed and crumble,
Slip and stumble—
Fumble for me
‘Til it murders you.
When I arrived
You were a perfect wreck,
Crumpled up and wet.
You clawed my shoulder blades
And kissed my neck,
Panting like a pet.
Try the best you can to stand.
Cry upon the cold grass, and
Clutch my body in your bloody hands.
You limped beside me
Up the street all night.
Everybody saw.
And they retreated
With their faces white,
Clenching at the jaw.
Everybody shakes his head.
Everybody twists in bed.
Everybody dreams of the dead.
Chorus
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12. |
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This is the hip where the hurting happened,
Where you sunk sharp things under your skin,
Silver and thin.
This is the hip that heard
Your small, soft sounds—
Helpless and frail, tender and pale
As a dead violin.
These are the hands that shall transform you.
Upon your scars they draw this design,
Line atop line.
Come see the shape these hands
Have found for you.
On the same skin, the very same sin,
See your picture shine.
These are your limbs, and they are lovely.
See how they pull my lips to your scars
Under pale stars.
Come see me touch and taste
And trace your tattoo tonight,
Proud in the pale light.
We sound like guitars.
This is the life we’ve lost—the fire and frost—
The smell of Christ and car exhaust—
The bloody blade—the barricade—
The way we lay down afraid—
Come, and we’ll rise—like butterflies—
You’ll clutch my wings—I'll taste your eyes—
You shall ascend with me, my friend—
This is not the end.
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13. |
Absent Friends
05:03
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Your old friends come.
The sun sets, and
Your old friends come.
Friends long dead,
Lovers long gone.
Your old friends come.
The room fills up.
The dead file in.
Their bodies hum.
No one dances
Like you dance
When your old friends come.
(…)
Circle, shake,
And scream your heart out
With the dead.
With your happy heart,
You’ll animate
The dead.
Rotten flesh
And bloody hearts,
Bleeding red.
The floorboards shake
Beneath you and
Your happy dead.
(...)
Your old friends come.
The mountains crumble
Into dust.
Cathedrals fall.
The rivers rise.
The bridges rust.
Your house fills up
With all the dead
You love and trust.
The mountains crumble
Into dust,
As all things must.
(…)
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Pale People Missoula, montana
Missoula, MT’s worst-kept secret.
An eccentric piano-rock quartet with a varied oeuvre, from soft confessionals to howling rants about the lonely and insane.
Better than sex. Cheaper than therapy.
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