(The Link)
http://www.mediafire.com/?69bjtkep3ama1ar
SISTER BLACK MARIA
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
let your raging dark be my holy home.
Seal my eyes with your storms and shadows.
Let me rest in the warmth of the scars that I’ve sown.
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
I can still remember the night
that I found your beautiful grave
and how I sang from the shore
until the cold waters parted
and how you were dancing
like a rose at the bottom of the lake.
DIOMEDEA
They rose in the dark from the furious ground,
and, with their poisonous claws, they laid our fathers down.
There’s no hope for us there in that reservoir town.
The streets where we’d lived are scarlet rivers now.
Diomedea, come and carry us home. Brace our willow arms.
The wind off the lake comes and rattles her ribs,
and I hold back her hair. I do simple things,
but the whites of her eyes have turned black and red,
and the ghost in her veins speaks in silences.
Diomedea, come and carry her home on her wicker throne.
THE WALKING DEAD
(Instrumental)
RACHEL LIED
Baby’s the fawn at the vine.
Baby was shot down in flight.
Rachel was here, and she lied.
Baby was born with burnt eyes
and a razorblade cut for a smile.
Rachel was here, and she lied.
PHAEDO
Little One, I will lay your bones in the ground
and pull the atalanta out of your mouth.
All the silences will sound, and your body will turn.
Little One, there is dawn rising up from the night
and boundless swarms of sparrows born from the fire.
Little One, there are ghosts rising up from your eyes.
We will quit this bed of wires, and our bodies will turn.
Heather and fern, the breath of the wolf, the heart of the dove.
Little One, I will lay your bones in the ground.
PRAY FOR DAYLIGHT
From a house on the water, while watching the silences scar your perfect face,
I pulled the moths from your mouth. I collected their wings.
I had dreamt of your father, alive, with your brothers, wrapped up in sheets of flame.
When I awoke, your heart rang, but your colors had faded.
Hang on, Little One. The fever is not in your blood; it will break with the sun.
From a house on the water, we watch as their bodies rise up from out of the waves.
Their emerald eyes will not take you from me.
As they rage through the darkness, I beg for your silence, you shout their cursed names
and when I offer my arms, you call them your grave.
Hang on, Little One. The fever is not in your blood. It will break with the sun.
THE WIND THROUGH YOUR WOUNDS
The wind through your wounds will give us away,
and they’ll tear the breath from out of your body.
A burgundy grin and a ravening stare;
this town we’d loved is a cradle of bees
and we’ll all fall down in waves, like sparrows.
A hundred million bloodstained angels.
You would not believe the things you’ll do to me.
The darkening woods and the ghosts on your face
and the terrible things calling you towards the lake;
the merciless dawn will deny us its grace.
No mighty arms are going to save us.
We’ll all fall down in waves, like sparrows.
A hundred million bloodstained angels.
You would not believe the thing you’ll do to me.
Nothing is released.
A SPECIAL PROVIDENCE
I left you lying in the reeds.
The worm was at your skin,
and as your desperate, caterwauling screams
rose and silenced in the wind,
the blood crept out from you in wings.
The sparrows hit the sea,
and, though I’d said a million things,
I just left you lying in the reeds.
The rain fell hard into the church
as they hammered down the doors.
They barreled in and you were first.
You pulled me, laughing, to the floor.
You’d torn your dress out in the woods
and your teeth were caked with dirt.
You said, “I think you’ve lost the war,
but I promise this won’t hurt.
You’re still young enough to learn.”
SISTER BLACK MARIA PT II
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
let your raging dark be my holy home.
Seal my eyes with your storms and shadows.
Let me rest in the warmth of the scars that I’ve sown.
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
I can still remember the night
that I found your beautiful grave
and how I sang from the shore
until the cold waters parted
and how you were dancing
like a rose at the bottom of the lake.
A BASKET OF BONE
In a blanket of bone, I followed you home.
I watched as you slowly stepped out of your skin.
You slid round the room with the loveliest grin,
and your throat was slick and sweet.
You offered it to me.
We slipped into the woods and you took off your shoes.
You dirtied your feet in the October leaves
and we happily chewed all the bark off the trees.
You fed me honey wine and covered me in night.
In a basket of bone, I carried you home.
I fixed you a crown out of old chicken wire
and we sat on the shore as the river caught fire.
The freshwater ghosts carried into the night.
Your father was there.
He gave you his eyes, and you saw me as a boy.
Though I swore that I had grown, you knew it was a lie.
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
let your raging dark be my holy home.
Seal my eyes with your storms and shadows.
Let me rest in the warmth of the scars that I’ve sown.
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
I can still remember the night
that I found your beautiful grave
and how I sang from the shore
until the cold waters parted
and how you were dancing
like a rose at the bottom of the lake.
DIOMEDEA
They rose in the dark from the furious ground,
and, with their poisonous claws, they laid our fathers down.
There’s no hope for us there in that reservoir town.
The streets where we’d lived are scarlet rivers now.
Diomedea, come and carry us home. Brace our willow arms.
The wind off the lake comes and rattles her ribs,
and I hold back her hair. I do simple things,
but the whites of her eyes have turned black and red,
and the ghost in her veins speaks in silences.
Diomedea, come and carry her home on her wicker throne.
THE WALKING DEAD
(Instrumental)
RACHEL LIED
Baby’s the fawn at the vine.
Baby was shot down in flight.
Rachel was here, and she lied.
Baby was born with burnt eyes
and a razorblade cut for a smile.
Rachel was here, and she lied.
PHAEDO
Little One, I will lay your bones in the ground
and pull the atalanta out of your mouth.
All the silences will sound, and your body will turn.
Little One, there is dawn rising up from the night
and boundless swarms of sparrows born from the fire.
Little One, there are ghosts rising up from your eyes.
We will quit this bed of wires, and our bodies will turn.
Heather and fern, the breath of the wolf, the heart of the dove.
Little One, I will lay your bones in the ground.
PRAY FOR DAYLIGHT
From a house on the water, while watching the silences scar your perfect face,
I pulled the moths from your mouth. I collected their wings.
I had dreamt of your father, alive, with your brothers, wrapped up in sheets of flame.
When I awoke, your heart rang, but your colors had faded.
Hang on, Little One. The fever is not in your blood; it will break with the sun.
From a house on the water, we watch as their bodies rise up from out of the waves.
Their emerald eyes will not take you from me.
As they rage through the darkness, I beg for your silence, you shout their cursed names
and when I offer my arms, you call them your grave.
Hang on, Little One. The fever is not in your blood. It will break with the sun.
THE WIND THROUGH YOUR WOUNDS
The wind through your wounds will give us away,
and they’ll tear the breath from out of your body.
A burgundy grin and a ravening stare;
this town we’d loved is a cradle of bees
and we’ll all fall down in waves, like sparrows.
A hundred million bloodstained angels.
You would not believe the things you’ll do to me.
The darkening woods and the ghosts on your face
and the terrible things calling you towards the lake;
the merciless dawn will deny us its grace.
No mighty arms are going to save us.
We’ll all fall down in waves, like sparrows.
A hundred million bloodstained angels.
You would not believe the thing you’ll do to me.
Nothing is released.
A SPECIAL PROVIDENCE
I left you lying in the reeds.
The worm was at your skin,
and as your desperate, caterwauling screams
rose and silenced in the wind,
the blood crept out from you in wings.
The sparrows hit the sea,
and, though I’d said a million things,
I just left you lying in the reeds.
The rain fell hard into the church
as they hammered down the doors.
They barreled in and you were first.
You pulled me, laughing, to the floor.
You’d torn your dress out in the woods
and your teeth were caked with dirt.
You said, “I think you’ve lost the war,
but I promise this won’t hurt.
You’re still young enough to learn.”
SISTER BLACK MARIA PT II
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
let your raging dark be my holy home.
Seal my eyes with your storms and shadows.
Let me rest in the warmth of the scars that I’ve sown.
Shine on, Sister Black Maria;
I can still remember the night
that I found your beautiful grave
and how I sang from the shore
until the cold waters parted
and how you were dancing
like a rose at the bottom of the lake.
A BASKET OF BONE
In a blanket of bone, I followed you home.
I watched as you slowly stepped out of your skin.
You slid round the room with the loveliest grin,
and your throat was slick and sweet.
You offered it to me.
We slipped into the woods and you took off your shoes.
You dirtied your feet in the October leaves
and we happily chewed all the bark off the trees.
You fed me honey wine and covered me in night.
In a basket of bone, I carried you home.
I fixed you a crown out of old chicken wire
and we sat on the shore as the river caught fire.
The freshwater ghosts carried into the night.
Your father was there.
He gave you his eyes, and you saw me as a boy.
Though I swore that I had grown, you knew it was a lie.
