host body of parasites lost, a human botfly, millions of hopeful little breaths extinguished in an antibiotic instant. potential miles below the surface, boiling in some forlorn grotto, or elsewhere, somewhere greener, warmer than the moon, where the sun’s contribution is other than daylight, other than truth. somewhere that isn’t on the maps, under the maserati hood with millipedes running through veins, breakneck speed.
lyrics
and i wanna be your history, your insomnia, your cold sweat
and this is an apology, what keeps me up and keeps me going
and sometimes i wonder if this is just a host body if
i'm just some poor parasite
and you miss the empty house i used to be
we could have been argonauts, ripped the sails from the beating currents, discovered gold where there once was lead, reshaped our lethargic hands into whirring cogwheels, sparkling in the ocean sunlight
we could have been architects, built cathedrals, impossible cathedrals, from balsa wood and memory, watching the chalk dust dance in our hands, finding ultimate, world-breaking power in fountains, water flowing through human-forged veins, blood of the earth spirit
and i wanna be your history, your insomnia, what keeps you up at night
and this is an apology, keeps me up and keeps me going, going
and sometimes i wonder if this is just a host body if
i'm just some poor parasite
filling an empty house
we could have battled dragons, shrieking in shrieking in triumph over their fallen scales, until another monstrosity forth reared its ugly fuckin' head, and we’d tear it apart, arm from arm limb from limb toe to toe, pathological soldier boys, presenting the entrails to the fire as a sacrifice
we could have been stargazers, observing familiar territory, charting our turns between the darting cosmos, lands of the dead, completely loose of them terrors of tomorrow, caught up in our eyes catching the universe
and i wanna be your history, your elemental awe, nightmares, everything after
this is an apology, so keep me up, keep me going, going, going, GOING
and sometimes i wonder if everyone's a host body if
we're all poor excuses for ghosts
haunting empty houses that used to be home
haunting empty houses that used to be home
haunting
credits
from Tabernacle,
released September 24, 2016
emerson fd - vocals, lyrics, percussion
amos damroth - synths, percussion, production
Pretty much exactly what you'd want out of an atmospheric, ambient, and engaging listen in less than 10 minutes. Beautiful sounds and textures. Worth yo time and yo money. Free Lemonade Records