Lyrics:
You'll find a place
Where you could rest
Take your clothes off, cut your hair
Make it to a nest
Place your thoughts under a log
Let the birds out of your chest
Watch them fly towards the East
Then call them back from the West
Come home, come home
Cars could hit you
You'd better look out
I'll be your eyes
If you'll be my mouth
The sky could eat you
You'd better look out
I'll be your eyes
If you'll be my mouth
Background:
This fiction, this forest. Moss lining cheek, lichen nest. Sleep like a log, in a log, wooden tent. Clarinet tounge, nutmeg sound with prickles, pickles. Birds in chest, bird in nest, birds far west. Needle hair, smell of pines, parallel lines in bark. Swampy ground, pangolin breath. Bog asphodel, ant-hill, wind.
Then sky, the usual clouds, sun behind branch. Wing tip, wing flap, hiss.
Needle hair, nutmeg sound, then sleep.
Next week:
Track 6 - When Others Go South
