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I held three strands

But I lost one

Dark as the lands

Surrounding Boston

On the train that backscratched the windows

The backs of the houses, pulsing the rain glows

That sick man so shiny in his slump

Doubled over like a water pump

He was dribbling out from his nostrils

Onto his ankles leaking like Aprils

Yeah the thaw had already begun

We could hear the earshot from your cabin

In the holy boldness your cheeks purpled and pinked

There in the coldness with some sort of instinct

Oh the fluency, me with my hands cupped

Catching currency that you made it erupt

The quiet of spilling right after the stilling

Why it was chilling our hot window-silling

I see your stature when breathing and turning

Smoking the black blur as if something’s burning

Remember the gray-slate coming of some thrill

The low sky of too-late up on Bunker Hill

And the whirling eddies sprayed off the semi’s tail

The curling snow-traps of your hair

Feeling warm inside the swarms of hail

The foreign planet of some diner we found there
So my brother and I saddle up some horse

And watch the snow thinning with the thawing

Another will die, rattle me so coarse

Will it leave me grinning or awing?
In Ontario


from Deadmalls and Nightfalls, released July 20, 2010


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Frontier Ruckus Detroit, Michigan

Michigan band inviting you to enter a dense & dimming world.

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