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lyrics
When the paint was peeling
On the iron in your skin
The choirs in your blood cells
Danced slower with every pill
To the rhythm of your silence
To the singing in your breaths
The lights on your tinderbox tongue
Glowing ember red
When the news finally came
I couldn't take it in
But every man and woman
Will be written in that book
When the great leveller
Comes to reap his crop
Of gauze over the grazes
Of olives in the brine
Of lonely men and women
Calling up the empty night
Of poets and paraders
All trying to steal his lines
So when it's time for kneeling
I will kneel before the blade
I'll let the kind cutter
Sever me from my complaints
And I won’t ask for reasons
For reasons never came
Reason never told you
Who to leave and who to take
There’ll be a time for weeping
And a time to clear the graves out
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 27, 2022