why? - Gnashville




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Published on Jan 28, 2012

Sometimes I claim to know a guy but I can't tell you what his hands look like.

Guess who's coming to dinner.

Gnashville. (Never in the night.)

Never in the night when the knot grows tighter than fingers can untie
and all the last half dammed rivers have gone dry.
Does the cock crow thrice until someone is denied
or the morning comes.
You wonder will you ever get your shit together.
What is that? A leather sofa and a feather in an old fur hat.
Fake tat, lost in a box of cracker jacks.
Practicing your plane wreck face in a first class lav.

(That's what the ghost of someone's dad might say.)

And when they come calling, I won't go calm.
There is no palm or divine mitt
with which to hold one's pit,
or separate the human race from its environment.
No scattered ashes loosely gather asking where the fire went.
We're left with half truth psalms
in an indecipherable scrawl in some vague extinct language.
Ancient ink dull, almost vanished on some old brittle scroll.

(That's what the ghost of someone's dad might say.)

  • Category

  • Song

  • Artist

    • WHY?
  • Album

    • Alopecia
  • Licensed to YouTube by

    • [Merlin] SC Distribution, AdRev for Rights Holder (on behalf of Joyful Noise Recordings); AdRev Publishing, and 2 Music Rights Societies


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