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lyrics

An archaic devise, used for centuries.
Built and woven, draining us empty.
It's hard to tell where this exhibit ends or begins.
A sad man's breakfast: a stomach sour.
This is the life of a coward.
Yet you welcome it to your chagrin.

Speech coaches to hide her accent.
And hatred to make her descent.
An equinox of her inevitable fall.
Detrimental and capperclaw
Her mouth is like a buzz saw.
Cutting through trees that stood so tall.

A spark then insurrection.
No matter how much protection.
Broken; induces great recoil.
Onlookers gasp (but that's not appalling)
Bleeding, begging, and crawling.
In the end, the beaten receive the spoils.

credits

from Hey​.​.​.​You Make Me Feel A Lot, released March 17, 2014

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Old Ephraim Eugene, Oregon

I'm a guy with a beard that feels things and writes songs about it.

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