Am F C Crisp and clean against the dark and muddy blue sky Am F E7 The air is stagnant and the breeze is burnt tonight F C Oh I know, and lord, I can see E7 F Am What this charismatic rectangle is doing to me Her call came like a thunder so radiant and pure Frigid lines through the surging brine I knew then that I was impure Sanctus Obeliscus, I stand agape With all of my companions, asleep until we wake A word suspended in between the meaning and saying Searing blade that cuts the stagnant, putrid braying Oft derided monolith, how they’ll cry out in the dark When they see you fly over the flowers of central park Bright eyed boys, you are only the grist She is the millstone, the balled up fist You will come to understand the world is made of glass She is just the stone that had to, lord, had to be cast Crisp and clean, shaking apart the brittle sky Fall out of your broken mouth, now close your eyes For I know, and I can see The future that is coming, and I am free I know, and I can taste The metal ozone in the air where my future waits
You ever read N.K. Jemisin's "The Fifth Season"? You ever listen to Lemon Demon? You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight? You ever pray for the end times? Anyways, "bright eyed boys you are only the grist - she is the millstone, the balled up fist" is the hardest line we have ever or will ever write and it's freeing to know you've peaked early. Also, this may have been some nascent kelp cult nonsense, because now that we are trothed to a spirit who embodies the rot of the world it really does feel like perhaps we were seeing her before we knew she was there. Things to think about!