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lyrics

‘Last Serpents’


Alight
In perfumes
In angelic worship tones
Pale public pyre
The blackened pitch
A human animal is burned

Our little child wants to be

Alive
Diffused
In the three dimensional
The soughing trees will sway
Through the wind
Like the murmurs through the crowd

Our little fire wants to be

Like sad sermons always soothe the pain away
Like holding hands in a wooden church we’ll sing
Those sad sermons always drain the colouring
Hold the note for long as you will breathe

To be free, to be free, to be free

Alike
The womb
A temporary place to hide
Angered under
Metropolis
The pulse along the spine

Our little child wants to see

The life
The fruit
Your extensions to the light
The tapered twilight
Of the gathering night
A million different rhymes

Our little fire wants to eat

Like sad sermons always soothe the pain away
Like holding hands in a wooden church we’ll sing
Those sad sermons always drain the colouring
Hold the note for long as you will breathe

To be free, to be free, to be free

credits

from The Disaster of Imagination, track released October 31, 2009
(c) 2009, S. Douglas/Sense of Scenery Music.

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Sense of Scenery Vancouver, British Columbia

Drums -
Drew Land

Everything Else -
Sean Douglas

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