We went away
There were no voice messages
There was no trail
Only a pile of ashes
Don't go consume
The stain of lashes on a stump
He retried it
It only squeaked a reply
Indigenous fruit
Blackened in the sun
I traded selfies for a face
It acted like you
What will I wear
When tender cronies break the door down
They shared a knife
They pushed the hand back in the pot
You tender leaflet
The bowl tells for you
A sycophant
A treasure chest of dirt
Tear apart the house
And separate the silverware
You said I'll take the heart attack

Stoned on doubloon tristesse among accountants
Erasing
Lance the money clip
Drain it till it's dry
Call the cops
Tender your resignation
Take off your tie
And set it on fire
We will never die
The hand of the sick
We will never die
The hand of the sick

performance:

dennis harvey: all instruments | voice

composition/production:

dennis harvey: composition | lyrics | mastering | mixing | production | recording

notes:

Written and recorded January 17-23, 2019.