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Eleven Doors

from Farewell E​.​P. by beacons

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lyrics

I picked apart the buds of May
with silent wish, with salt and spray
from ports of call on sunset days.

Spectrum's sere with scripted shrouds
eleven doors, for heavens crowds
a floating sphere of ringing sounds.

So spill your fictions down the drain
and I will swill your diction til'
the storm rain paints our shadows still
the storm rain paints our shadows still.

Come on now baby, bring me the thunder
in a cauldron small
summon up the dredges of a churning old earth
with a staff of bone
and pagan calls.

When all the seasons lie in state
and darkness falls when hours grow late.
When all your fictions billow forth
and drown the sun, the south and the north.

When all is quiet on the span
the task is plainly clear.
To these silent scenes
we sing a song of suffering sound.

When words surrender sense to dust
and wisdom falls to serpents' trust.
We sing this song of suffering sound
we sing this song of suffering sound.

credits

from Farewell E​.​P., released July 19, 2013
Dan Abbott - Bass Guitar / Vocals
Joel Hughes - Percussion
Matt McCracken - Guitar

license

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beacons Ceredigion, UK

Raise the wind; sow the whirl; shake off the old humid earth.

MMcC, DA, AJH

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