Troubled Coast - Patient Hands | Текст песни

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• Troubled Coast
• Patient Hands

I want to know where the summer ends
September came with oceans between words and sleep
September shed its skin of still hush, patient hands
Young men Edmonton bound with young wives
Edmonton bound
Head pressed against her chest
Bottles grow in the dirt and rest between your ribs
Still I toss and turn at night in a winter bed
While dreamcatchers spun in twine spin above my bed
You've been writing out the past couple hundred years for the middle class
About the god you found beneath your sheets
How she never could hold her drink
I won't write a thing for you

And now I see you in the places I don't believe exist
And can not face yet, can't accept
Its something like the cold, uncatching words
We use to read to one another

October came in dingy scarfs, black shades
Gloves under beds with boyhood dreams
A razor blade drug in unsure lines after missing mass again and feeling fine
A rising fear of the afterlife
A growing knot in my spine from slouching towards recluse
Keep me awake at night
Do you hear a still, small voice or catching nothingness
When you pray for [?]
Head clasped between my knees
The night before is pushing through my throat and down onto the floor
While you're somewhere in between the warmth and frigid depth of his mind and heart
November came and I never woke
Let me clarify, I tried to wake
But voices in my head said stay asleep. Do you hear them too?

And now I see you in the places I don't believe exist
And can not face yet, can't accept
It's something like the cold, uncatching words
We use to read to one another

We jumped a fence only to find that home wasn't close at all
Our bodies became space-lost-ships like cosmonauts drunk and alone
From here it seems we're doing fine
From here it seems we're never coming home again
I'll be there when you break and when you're crumbling
When you crack, fall apart, don't tell me you're okay
Don't tell me you're okay

And now I see you in the places I don't believe exist
As the winter Earth spins on its side
Hands under gloves cupped under heavy eyes
It's something like the cold, uncatching words
We use to read to one another
December came without snow and the acute absence of me and you

And now I see you, now I understand
December became disingenuous the day you were born

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