In the Nervous Light of Sunday

Whispers invoke

Whispers invoke the artists of this

Tragically seemless, ill fated tapestry

Blistered, blistered, fingers, fingers

Are tending, are tending their loom

She collects the strands to braid

Into life, logging the weft of an ageless, woven infinity

Countless, countless raw fibers

Fibers are clawing, are clawing the frame

A woman's work is never done, never done

But the final stitch has got to come

And so three witches, slowly, contend, and contending

To slice, to slice the very last thread

That you curse, curse constantly

That you curse, curse constantly

That you curse, curse constantly

That you curse, curse constantly

But nothing's immortal

And comfort is not guaranteed

A yearling who bears our sincere passions

Is chosen, frozen, and quivering

Like a thread in the wake of a blade

And so we compromise, so we compromise

So we sacrifice (Go!)

Compromise nothing, but that which secures a comfortable life

Risk as the indication of a healing sacrifice

Destroy the altar whose boundaries tides will never exceed

Ignite the pyres underneath a sedated mythology

Five decades his lifetime

And his life's work is just fading scratches in stone

Just fading scratches in stone, she tends the numerals

Counting fingers, counting her toes

Keeping track of the time racing, years wasting

Dance to the sound of his weight-bearing, back-breaking

Infinite ages, the length of this quilt's making

And we dance, and we dance in the stronghold

That you curse, curse constantly

That you curse, curse constantly

That you curse, curse constantly

That you curse, curse constantly

Do you feel this thin strand resting in a pinch?

That's the thread that you curse, curse constantly

Do you feel this thin strand resting in a pinch?

That's the thread that you curse, curse constantly

Constantly curse

Do you feel this thin strand resting in a pinch?

That's the thread that you curse

An eternal patch on a quilt that hangs

From a wall in a throw frought with our decay

An eternal patch on a quilt that hangs

From a wall in a throw frought with our decay

An eternal patch on a quilt that hangs

From a wall in a throw frought with our decay

An eternal patch on a quilt that hangs

Remember forever till it goes away

From six states away

Five years of guilt postmarked four days before my escape

All I ever asked was for a clean break

In the first nervous light of the day

Collecting the novels whose scribes sought to keep me contained

All I ever asked was for a clean break

My dad's favorite novel on top of the pile

In the self-conscious first light, shake the memory of his smile

Igniting these volumes

Igniting these volumes, I'm warmed by the flames

Alter the deafening earthen tones

Alter the deafening earthen tones

In the nervous light

I dance in the nervous light, and I'm warmed by the flames

Dance to the sound of his weight-bearing, back fucking breaking

Fucking breaking

Dictate the deafening earthen tones

Alter the pitch of his weight-bearing, back-breaking

Dictate the pitch of our weight-bearing, back-breaking

Alter the tone of your weight-bearing, back-breaking

We can mend all the seams that were torn during our backs slowly breaking

In the nervous light, in the nervous light of sunday

In the nervous light, in the nervous light of sunday

In the nervous light, in the nervous light of sunday

In the nervous light, in the nervous light of sunday

In the nervous light, the nervous light of sunday

In the nervous light, the nervous light of sunday