over time I shift
major to minor tonality
from the storms that breached
and the rising sun while everyone’s asleep
a bitter and caustic critique
can be sung so sweetly
between the folds in the sheets
under a helmet at speed
or late at night over a bottle of whiskey
with Sleepwalk on repeat
funneled through a string of lights
the biting air and rising exhaust
the kindred spirits steadily lost
comingled with the exhaled smoke
perfume that reeks
or the cedar chest opened with a creak
full of worthless chaff
childhood casts
potentialities long past
when the sun comes up my inspiration fails
“Strain your wine and prove your wisdom; life is short; should hope be more? In the moment of our talking, envious time has ebb'd away.”
--Horace “Odes” (23 BCE)
supported by 17 fans who also own “Folds in the Sheets”
This album is haunting, beautiful, and cathartic. One of the best post-black metal albums out there. I bought a cd on Discogs, but needed the vinyl. Доберман Сатз