Tuesday, October 25, 2022

Poets of the Fall: "Choir of Cicadas"


It's the season of dust trailing old pick up trucks

Seashells washed ashore down by the docks

So baby pull on your blue jeans turn the radio loud

Don't wait for the hour to give birth to doubt.


In the peak harvest of snakebites and wasted hindsight

When trivial truths sit next to the taillights

When fenders of chrome they rattle and hum

All carved in the shape of freedom


...


So I'll be your lover now, brazen & bright

Like the flare of a match you struck in the night

Though what does a stray know 'bout holy & true

But I'll always come to your rescue.


Oh Lord won't you hear your children cry

Singing their praise & their hallelujahs

I have no more words to describe

An empty sky of hollow blue, yeah

So where is my lover, my firelight

The line on the edge of truth & rumour

We took our vows in the heart of the night

We were brazen & bright, when we were brazen & bright



Poets of the Fall 


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