Hour 2 Lyrics & Tabs by Decomposure
Hour 2
guitar chords lyrics
it was hot.
half-float, draw it out and cast it aside, but it will always return.
we built slowesh rates and dark yellow and hip boxes
around white windows and line of sight
painting an epic battle helmet vs. nailmapping foot nudges
to a sparse sleeping choir behind unbreakable swine necklaces
as my invisible fence ad dash melted snowfort.
ladder against the wall
or a prayer for the poor instead of an air war
throat dusted with flour
dir/w
puncture the semidethawed icepack membrane
between the twostroke lower case e, i
and twelve month handdrawn circles
five slip under the sediment
between the twostroke lower case e, i
and twelve month handdrawn circles
five slip under the sediment
stuffed to be short and proudly wear a hanger;
i hope my facing foyer mirrors will shatter fully before i wake.
nose to the mural/image virus
spin tires on identical mobius thirtysix minutes in folded towels
or green trucker alarms
or competing systems draped over backs of mornings;
bullet hole handprints piercing frosted pane
even as beads join like lined featureless faces
span each shut with a red pen
when each poison action spider drags its ashen paw
across dry fields laden with land mines and gopher homes
glom opposing sides, clamp forward
when exponents pick height sickness’ marked car from under your arm
in a prerink plastic chair reading slogans, awaiting a blink
from the aging red or blue candy handbook’s monstrous white pupils,
anchor anxious arm raised under zero weight of wisp or clearing stacks
between absence and blurred black rattle trailing umbrellatipped silence.
your name carved in a desk; etched bruisepurple
below whitebarred stalactites and conscious laughs
that flank a skipped chapter.
we leak on the green legs rung,
nickel and timed ’til days are hung.
do you dream in webstats? sanding a toothpick
thunderhead over fused crayon candles snuffed at both ends
when another dark tuesday is salted bottom left with unpeeled onions
waiting on crosshatched etm triacontahedron
downing milleniumaesthetic clean white squares
forcing your foot to twist and slap to the ground
baby talk cults. paper eyelash insect
darting windows to spout (a hand cupping sand to the edge of a table)
over smaller snowhills,
notched untouched paper.
twotwofour and there’s only mist around the plant
and red seven segments to be divided and catalogued as in high school,
tired but no longer encoded.
red eye, green eye, flattened in a remaining crumpled wounded deer.
and if this pale sheath buckles under white wind spears
i may join either side of the boiling tongue if only for toques and dry shoes
and bite into scarves heated by clear nest handshakes
none to split a pizza from teal in a storm.
it’s a whole other sheet of cellophane dropped to reveal
a fourth set of pews listed only as shadow shapes
painted concrete floor through a screen door floor hockey
transports meat to a former statepainted redbrick wall
shouldertap lost (or a funnel double m gym,
burning inlocker firetruck notes read in left-of-luxury stall
postfinal, prefinal,
whitespace
dizzied unknown but anticipated
outcome from autumn to winter;
stoplighted chili rather than desperate heatsink
pencilled all caps through thin blue
unsent as bc rolled silently by
but that had only occurred to me in pieces)
