Bm D Aug. 6th, carved in desks with old knives:A “Back when our common cause was aliveBm And--let’s say--the hyacinth fields were in bloomD Children watched as the soldiers marched byA All the birds fell like frogs from the skyBm Prostrate in the streets every crescent moonD Lonesome offspring of which still resoundA With the victimless sins of their authors passed downBm And the remnants of loathsome, disjointed worldsD Along the short path round the lily pad pondContinues after the adA With off-white deerskin wedding dress onBm German songs, homemade bonnets like old-order, amish girls jilted by squirrelsD In the parks of Sioux Falls haunted by church bellsA Like ghosts of applause and the earth deep down tire-stacked walls likeBm D A New Mexico, peaceful as moth-bitten pincushion dolls making up myths about wounds without cause...”Bm And sometimes when it’s quiet my heart feels like GuernicaD [scenes from old air raid] on screens in blue duskA Perfumed neighborhoods/graveyards the breath feels like flies in my lungs, voice like ambulanceBm Sirens whose light floods the groundD (“praying mantis spreads arms” said the lines of whose palm?)A Skyline shifting like clouds became “airplane descends”Bm [fade to scenes on the ground] human foreheads all smashedD Foreign cars upside down, insect mouths open wideA I stared down a huge insect, bright red-glowing eyesBm [does it feel wrong to say a thought “metastasized”?], legs on both highway sides [Break]F#m A G (Said insect was mechanized!)F#m A G EmF#m A G
August 6Th
mewithoutYou
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Continues after the ad
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