Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia men Music & Songs On My Own

The Claim

Sacred are the things that last
But you come on so hard and fast I cry.

Sacred things are meant to be
But you won’t put your claim on me so I
Belong to myself.

And the claim of
The life that I have known.
Please don’t let me go there.
Please don’t let me go back to the

Claim of the life that I have known.
Please don’t let me go there
Please don’t let me go.

You come on so fast and dark
Leave just when you’ve had enough
I lie- cloud in my mind.

Sacred things are meant to be
But you won’t put your claim on me and why?
There’s a woman you love

And the claim of
The life that I have known
Please don’t let me go there.
Please don’t let me go back to the

Claim of the life that I have known
Please don’t let me go there
Please don’t let me go back to the

Claim of the life that I have known
Please don’t let me go there
Please don’t let me go.

Claims appear on every street
The ripples where the rivers meet thats life.
Climb their way up every wall
They do whatever’s wanted to survive.

Pick your phone up with your ring
You leave like its not anything but why?
There’s a woman you love.

Through the alleyways I creep
A cloud of smoke when people sleep
And I belong to myself.

And the claim of the life that I have known
Please don’t let me go there
Please don’t let me go back to the

Claim of the life that I have known.
Please don’t let me go there
Please don’t let me go.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs

Cream Pot

 

 

Hand in the cream pot
with a silver spoon.
Times past remembered
in the month of June.

The fluid of time
Your face my mind

Dripping in milk
Framed by a black sky
Men walk on legs
I let them pass by.

One hand, pure white
Your moon, my kite

Fingers that slip
Slither into you
Wishing to touch
Wishing they knew you

Hand of the mother
in an apron string.
Face of the clover
through a silver ring.

The slime of night
I fly, I might

Words made of smoke
Changing forever
Tearing apart
Weaving together

One hand, one jar
To fill with stars…

 

Download MP3: Cream Pot