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lyrics

Maybe we're sposed to be martyrs, sealed tight in plastic tombs, to never decompose
Or maybe we're sposed to be collapsing lungs darling, tar in the sand by the ocean where acidic stomachs burn, the moon smiling in confusion, at midnight break camp and sail home.

Misplace our homes, butter bread for blind old men, lay down, nap on the shores of open wounds, strip and jump in.

Maybe we're meant to be loveless, can't sink above this, can't climb beneath our sunrise.
Or maybe we've tragically fallen neck deep in contradiction, to never know what's right.

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from Psalms From Rainy Day Land, released May 17, 2013

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Walter Etc. Ventura, California

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