False Weavers

by Blackbird Raum

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released February 13, 2013

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Track Name: People Were Yelling But of Course You Couldn't Help Them
Where gull white steam
And moth black smog
Coalesce in starry bedchamber
West is the landless sea
And east is a seasonless desert never passed
And below, a gravel path is littered with those who couldn’t walk anymore
a refugee chain trudges off the horizon
Dry your eyes with this steel wool
March off every injury
In the instance of failure you will return to the end of the line
People were yelling, but of course you couldn’t help them
Track Name: The Lash
The lash is on it’s golden nail inside the master’s house
It’s not needed now, dreams are working for the nonce
But that lash, is being taken down they’ve thrown bones enough
And don’t love to hear us whine
Some refused to sign
Some lit themselves on fire
In the labyrinth cities
Endless rooms
The economic chain
In the endless rooms, heads dancing in their tombs
The hairless apologists, cook their schemes
Aspect of the leech
War lines to my home
Rust to gleaming chrome

The lion’s share, the lions’ share their kill
The system drinks unknowing, blindly draining all and we are all it’s cells
The bloodless routine evil, greying cloud of working
Hydras head grown back

Every daughter, every one, every mother’s son

The knives in their upward stab
I do no good, I hold them by the blade
That’s how I was made
The towers never show their roots, yet underground
The dwelling of the low
Wanting, grasping souls
To the middle bricks we are
Worth, shallow
Not enough, never enough, don’t give up, I give up
Track Name: False Weavers
Come to take water
And don’t get away.
Bringing in medals and flags to hang
From the east, saddled burglary.
This is life under the moon.
Commander makes home with Sand Creek


Weavers, false weavers!

Were we to dig, were we to bury?
The grave is full
To compensate for the magistrate
Its recyclable
Spending days asleep awake
Till we see the bull

I have watched the crowds come,
I’ve seen the bulls come
The momentum of the past is consumed with the furious hunger of aching lips.
I have watched the crowds come moving with a quick wrist, greeting
Forgotten gods, making surfaces at the morning of repose

Fort promises are a poor sack.
Track Name: Grudge Against the Epitaph
The wolves were thinning in skins sheep had known they were living in.
The wolves were thinning in skins, hunger coming to know them again
I don’t fucking believe this.
I just want to go home.
You were supposed to feed me.
Just leave me alone.
I’m falling to dust.
There’s nothing I can do.

Sleep under dunes
Song of terrapin shell
Lined with the tinder moss
A craft of living coal
Track Name: Disfigured Isolation
Headaches, coughing fits, neurasthenics and saint vitus dancers
To you who wheeze and sneeze and bawl
Get out from my bed I cannot name you
Stumbling forward on cracked hooves
Who’d have thought I’d grow up and grow horns
They make monsters wait in line like other men
Have you ever met anyone?
To hold something my hands could not crush
No, no medicine
Planned wound, opens like a wet flower
Stitches slip and won’t hold
Find life even here
When I must feed my python hair
Am I not deserving of love?
Who would pay to see a bird bleed, anyone?
Track Name: The Greymare parts 1 & 2
There's a necessary sadness and a necessary pain
A nervous isolation and a misery today
We suffer all the symptoms that they might choose to claim
Their meddling involvement; their medical disdain
I’ll try to save the sound of it, the words bespake unspoken
Where every word’s a poem, and every poem’s golden
But if you think its wrong or if you think its over
Its just a law of gravity and laws they must be broken

I hate them and I hate us and I hate me and we hate them
So try to keep it conflict but it always sounds the same
We talk our trash we cut us down we even say our names
We beat us, the cops and break their windowpanes
I want to bring destruction to this thing we call our life
This engineered facsimile of what we’ve been deprived
But someones always failed at what I try to try
And everytime I make a plan I want to stay inside

Past is in the afterlife the present’s overrun
We’re not waiting for tomorrow that's just never gonna come
Whether waiting for the hangings or waiting to be hanged
We’ll just hang around courtyard kicking dust against the rain
I want to say I’ve had it, and fuck what might have been
I want to say the battle’s done and we just couldn't win
That we could not prevail verse the world we’ve been given
I didn't just not ask for this, I wasn't asked permission

The grey will stay until the day we find a way to send it all away
The way to win this war is battle asymmetrical
This fight will take the lives the hearts and minds of many many brave people
Track Name: Bare Ground
It was overcast most of the way.
Clouds thick with rain that couldn’t pour.
Something was building up in the water
Something was building up in the rain.

We were only holding out for nothing, leaving it on bare ground
When you’re only looking out for yourself, scarcely much is around

It couldn’t last, more of the same.
Slashing up the walls in a canvas room
Something was building up in the water
Something was building up in the rain.
Sleeping is a simple gesture on the roof
That’s a half truth.
Track Name: Belmont
Terrified women are flooding the offices
One’s leg is crushed beneath a heavy iron gate
People are vanishing leaving only their shoes
Unanswered texts silhouettes burned into the wall
Legions of mindless cops now arrive, loudly beating their batons
Against their shields
Why’s everybody looking at me like there’s something fundamentally wrong?
Don’t walk on me like the half frozen pond
Track Name: Bury the Record
A contagion, bury the record
That’s the year the plague swept in, bury the record
The cloud of the stench, of the carcass, of the summer heat
I can explain so much
Only so much
This is why I’m here, to impress
Impress in you the need for all these things don’t make that face at me
Remove this sourpuss glaze from your countenance
Buried in the sky or in the earth, face down or standing
Life is one force, grossly changing, cold eclipsing
This year’s murdering ground is the soil of future lives
Track Name: A Rat in Thy Dream
If I repeat myself I apologize but
I've been caught too many times I’m
Running out of places to hide
Some call me a traitor
I’m not here to save you
I think I’ll just stay here , if no-one’s home I’ll
Crash behind the couch with weapons drawn
Taped up and over
Security cameras
Hand in the till like
Little rebellions
In darkness I’m crouching
On paths that I’ve scouted
“Sadie’s laughing”
My quarry approaches
“I’ll make a pact with you”
Leave us behind
Harry Roberts
Tommy Ryan
Brandish the moment
Hide in the open
Keeping on focus
And fight like its hopeless
Attempt to finish Christobel
Oh fragments!
Meekly pleading for forgiveness and
Stacking wishes like dirty dishes
“What care we how white the minch is”
Faces bruised and hands in stitches
I went and gave it all I had
But not enough to bite the hand
Still say i’m doing what I can
Out on my own
Some call it a breakdown
On the run from the ones
Running the show
Overly concerned
For the grouchy and bored
Cant ignore our scars
Monsters made not born
Not to say the prayer
Not to cast the vote
Its not enough
To free my throat
Well the secret is GO
Get up and just go
Crawl out of your hole
We can still get through this smoke
Track Name: Beast of Carthage
Home of the oaks and the weeds
And the trash that will cover us given any time
Stranded at the tournament soaking up blood
Nourished by the black art of the palace floor
Charging up the hill into machine guns with a plumed helmet and a broken sword
And the ice, sewage ice, it’s selling like hot cakes additive slime
Herded to a yellow tape cordoned off place
We were just conscripts forced to wield arms
Lining up the pit with pointed sticks, drive them men downhill into the pit
Beast of carthage makes his call
A carrion smell in the foreman’s yard
Climbing up the digisite just for some
Asshole named Halliwell on the phone for you
Track Name: The Greymare part 3
I’ve got a funny feeling, that this is really it
You work until you’re barely there or eat until you’re sick
I know there must be more than this, and knowing it’s the worst
I think there must be more than this, at least that’s what I’ve heard

Pure and brainless heartless thinking you’re the smartest
You call yourself an artist? Come on lets fucking start this
“Sometimes it’s better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness.”

So when’s it gonna start, when’s it gonna start
Are we Waiting for godot, or are we waiting in the dark
Once you know the method, once you can begin,
The question isn’t how or where, the question is just when

When’s it gonna start, when’s it gonna start
When they take your life, or when they check your card?
I’m not naming names im just sounding they alarm
"When they kick in your front door tell me how you gonna come"
Track Name: The Lord of Husks and Rinds
A puppy with it’s eyelid in a vice, let out a moan, which no science could defend against
The songbird to the cellphone tower crashed
Wrote out a bill for which reason could not recompense
We are like them in a way
Just the error of our day
Like that scientific ape
It’s not for us to escape
They’re sealing up the hive
For the lord of husk and rinds
Hard shell, tough sell
Too old, too cold
We are like them in a way, said a sanguinary toad from his perch above an open grave
But he never got his say, cast down under a rock for the spiders to investigate
He’s not swimming in the sea
It’s a test facility
It’s an interesting clime
In the city Anaheim
Not gold, I’m sold
Track Name: Fate of Drowning
Emptied hands of black hills, washed with gold
Wasted sun
That god is so sad and young
Sea is old, the sea is old

Is this over? Looking over, reaching over, rushing over
At least these scars are wounds that healed
Track Name: String Follow
Slowly stalling sentencing and walking off tomorrow
But the way that we are carrying on, we’re better off in sorrow
Slowly stalling sentencing and walking off the dawning
The way that we are carrying on, we’re better off in mourning