Vocals: Dustin Monk, A Lynn, group
Don’t cut ou the TV or the sound of its grief. It’s the static that keeps your eyes so sweet and aligned. Or manybe it’s the lack of nay beliefs, the rain fallin hard on the rurning leaves at midnight. Under a tree where two rivers meet we sat eating apples and throwing the seeds like snowlakes. Love was a locust shell we’d touch just to feel, losing our innocence that never was real and anyway. You were so young, you were so restless and cheap. I was a hump, I was ready to speak in stars we filled up the evening with and scratched holes in the dark, where children sing and slip until their lips bleed and spark. How it gets in your brain, how it beats up your heart. And we would kiss with the taste on our teet, our tongues hot and wet in our cheeks like a worm in the earth.