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This and That

from is an egg by Wallace

/

lyrics

Do the trees have needles or leaves?
Was that Anne’s Lace or Water Hemlock we raised?
Will that star fading beyond this clearing be back?
I swear this place was greener.

Birds used to sing, now barely whisper a melody,
and the wind just drones on instead of humming its harmony.
Noise must have gone.

Lift up the pale, and I’m off to the stream.
The trickling water doesn’t feel cold to me.
And though it rained, the air still smells stained.
Our flowers bring beetles instead of bees,
and the saplings just stare joylessly.

Suddenly wood’s burning, and smoke’s on the hunt.
I flee, but smoke fades to smog easily.
Your hazy visage is stalking me.

Death weighs like
sand sneaking
into your pockets
while you’re at sea:
before you know it,
you’ve been pulled under,
still unaware
you’re drowning.
Dying
is the easy part.

Who cares about the petals?
Who cares about words?
Who cares about harmony?
Who cares.

Sunday: back to the garden.
The beds have grown buds of yellow and
pink, which fill the air with such
sweet scents that will our Lace to bloom.

On the way to the stream,
a fallen bird seizes all my senses:
resting tranquilly on its side, embraced by
twigs and leaves, journeying,
other birds still sing.
For white feathers, I weave our petals
then all the green returns.

I throw a match in the pit.
The smoke smells of comfort again.

credits

from is an egg, released June 25, 2016

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Wallace San Jose, California

A couple a kids outta San Jose tryna make something a little strange.

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