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Saturday 7 March 2009

Horse Feathers Lyrics (as taken from the Horse Feathers myspace page)

Arguably, Justin Ringle is currently my favourite poet. Because thats whats these songs are. Pure unadulterated poetry.

CURS IN THE WEEDS
Lover of things,
won't you agree
how the winter could bring
the darkest spring?

With hell on your face,
dirt on the walls
in the back of the place,
you grew and complained.

Father of three,
won't you believe,
that the ones in between,
the ones that are blamed.

Of fickle faith,
cynics that seethe,
how their children are cursed,
cursed to believe.

It's like marrow without bone.
To live in a house with no home.
Where the son is the darkest seed.
He crawls with the curs in the weeds.

Where had you been son?
Not in the street, not in the yard.

Only once, I'll call off the dogs, if you call off your guard.

Where had you gone?
Where had you been?

RUDE TO RILE
Maybe he could wait a while?
Maybe grow too tired or old.
Maybe they just lay to look.

While we were young, we all laughed and we sung.
Now we've been beat by work.
Oh, he just waits, he just hopes, and he prays.
But the more she is loved she hurts. . .

It's rude to rile her up.
Those fools for god don't love another's touch.
Making babies for good or grief?
To these types of fools he pleads,
"If beggars aren't loved they leave!"

She learned it from a book.
Suiters approach, receive dirty looks.
Calling on her for good or grief.
These types of fools who beg and never read.

WORKING POOR
We are young and we are weak.
Just as blank as we are bleak.
Too far gone in our heads.
We all live and work in the red.

We're cold,
we had done all we've been told.
There's no court for our case.
What failure gave us suits our taste.

We all bend, we all break.
We all forfeit what we make.
Too far gone, in our heads.
We all live and work in the red.

We're cold,
we had done all we've been told.
There's no court for our case.
What failure gave us suits our taste.

There's no money to our names.
Empty pockets to our graves.
There's no court for our case.
What failure gave us suits our taste.

ALBINA
Now we've got concrete.
A place those blacks won't be.
If we come they'll know.
They should flee,
They should go.
Here comes a white shadow.

Blues aren't made from greed,
this feast on famine pleads.
To take their space,
if we can, if we may,
make a darker day.
Please, shame on me.

These things, they come in threes.
This feast on famine pleads.
To take their space,
if we can, if we may,
make a darker day
Please, shame on me.

This street ain't made for me.

A BURDEN
A bitter birthday.
I can't shake.
It seems that lately,
there's no break.

I'm pleading.

Why can't I see?
It seems that lately, I curse me.

A bitter birthday.
You can't make.
It seems that lately, there's no break

I'm pleading.

Why can't we see?
It seems that lately, you curse me.

How do you go?
A curse it is right behind.
How do you go?
A burden may change your mind.

HELEN
I just heard the news,
a new one is on your line.
I just heard the news,
it's taking all my time.

What will you do
when I'm fine?
What will I write
when I'm fine?

I just heard the news,
a new one is on your line.
Legs they're wrapped around,
a victim by surprise.

What will you do
when I'm fine?
What will I write
when I'm fine.

Helen, if you called my name you know I'd go.
In much the same way the sun steals the snow.
I've been burned by the heat two bodies make.
A little bird told me that your type is too ripe to take.

FATHER REPRISE

HEATHEN'S KISS
Lyin' on the floor and through your teeth.
Tell me where you've gone, speak softly.
Crawlin' from the dark up to your feet.
Tell me where you've gone, speak gently.

Crawlin' from the dark up to your feet.
Tell me where you've gone, speak softly.
Tell me where you've gone, and what you've done.
A fever keeps on comin', I want none.

Are you true to me?
Are these vows we say profane?
Are you true to me?
Are these vows we make obscene?

Heathens kiss softly.
From their mouthes there's nothing.
They cruelly come gently.
With violent lips smashing.

Heathens kiss softly.

DIFFERENT GRAY
Oregon loves too few.
Oregon loves just you.

Curse the rose, curse the rain.
Now two bodies, can't start the same.
How our sun has gone away, there aren't days,
there's just different gray.

How can anybody only just sleep?
How can anybody only just leave?

Who talked to you?
Who's in your ear?

Probably a better man.
Who's probably got better plans
for wealth or success.

THIS IS WHAT
Baby brother don't you know?
I'm cross when you come,
I'm cursed when you go.
I won't waste my time, let the worst get in line.
I fruitlessly labor for show.
As time passes distance grows.

My son is so late.
Mother trust I will bring you a face,
even on the wrong days,
you know I could dream to lay,
next to that body,
I've yet to make.

This is what it is to be.
Call it joy in youth,
don't dare call it free.
He won't come, he won't crawl.
He won't answer at all.
I fruitlessly labor for show.
As time passes distance grows.

FATHER
Father your failures are so grave,
they have seeped to son.
No amount of wishing,
for grace to be regained or won.
10,000 pounds of hope,
on the shoulders of one.

It's clear to me,
how the son has gone to seed.
It's clear to me,
how the roots shape the tree.
If I found a penance to be paid,
if I found a payment to be made.

There's no real letter to write,
To no real father of mine.
With no real things,
it's hard not to think.
With no real things,
it's hard not to sing.

Father your failures are so grave,
they have seeped to son.
No amount of wishing,
for grace to be regained or won.


HARDWOOD PEWS
Stalling, stalling, the hardwood of pews is calling. We want this news. Lovely ladies make pretty babies, it's true. That woman's not you. Take your body and clothes to places he won't go. Your life as you know is hopeless, it'll happen too slow. Oh, she's tricked, she was trapped. Her body was lacking white and red, those hues lost in bed. Oh, they would speak language exacting. Oh, they would lay, parts practicing. And through it all he won't call. Lovely ladies take your beauty to your grave.

FINCH ON SATURDAY
Boys, they've got wicked things on their minds. Before the father said you're toein' the line. Like a finch on Saturday, sin with wings. Give your tongue to God, on Sunday sing. It all seems fine. These things are off your mind. Remember we're born to die, but she was born to cry. To cry herself to sleep. Red cowards in the home of the brave. Rather the knaves and crooks that twist the good book. Peasants, paupers, pilgrims they are the same. They give their dollars to God but they need their pay. It all seems fine. These things are off your mind. Remember we're born to die, but she was born to cry. To cry herself to sleep.

DUSTBOWL
Viscious are the mouthes she tastes. Wicked are the vowes she breaks. Leaving all her luck to haste. Leaving all her luck to waste. All these things in a box, where she goes she lays. Leaving all these men tonight, leaving all these boys to fight.Leaving all her luck to haste. Leaving all her lust to waste. All these things in a box, where she goes she stops. Hell to all these moneymakers. Lives they won't mistake. Oh, you knew I loved to hate her. Eyes that won't debate.

BLOOD ON THE SNOW
Painless ghosts, of which she knows, the smell in her clothes, the smell in her nose. There's blood on the snow. Bring your love, it's on your tongue, it's on your roads, and in your toes. There's blood on the snow. Tuesday's violence, we're alone. Into their beds they approach their doom. Their heads, their lips, their chests, their hips, they walk. Them bones they move, they talk. Their bones they bleed they rot. Their tones they're forged, they're wrought, into what they're not.

HONEST DOUBTERS
Bound in blue, they wind into a love some would say is grand in its making. Worms may sing, that from beneath their graves, they're found embracing. Some might say love without touching. Bones may break, parts keep on bleeding. God loves honest doubters. Praying is always work. The best things will happen to the worst.Tuesday's lovers, Monday's mistakes.

IN OUR BLOOD
There are things you tend to say when you're alone. There are tones you tend to take when you're at home. Let me be that thorn, thistle, or key. Let me prove you'll unlock just for me. It's in your eyes we fail to even try. It's in our blood to watch each day go by. It's in our times young men they're living on dimes. It's on our minds to put our hands to throats. There are things you tend to say when you're alone. There are tones you tend to take when young hearts are broke.

FALLING THROUGH THE ROOF
Lady, you fondle then fight, tonight. By tomorrow you should grow. Hades, the place you reside tonight. By tomorrow we should know. It's likely you will lie as your tongue will taste the sky. Like it was once. And maybe, you will bruise as you fall right through this roof. Like it was once. It's likely you will prove that these things they come in two's. Like it was once. And maybe, you will bruise as you fall right through this roof. Like it was once.

LIKE LAVENDER
The wall breaks on the phone if at all, if you call. A hole from which to see your head, if words are dead. Some things always stay the same. How you looked wet from all the rain. Like lavender the smell of your hair, silly errs postponing your despair. And I'll wait, I'll wait. Take a ticket to my own fate. Maybe I'm too late.

WALKING & RUNNING
Walking and running, sucking and fucking at your will. You won't debate us, nor entertain us. It's your thrill. A bitter pill that you must take. Broken bones and hearts, that's your fate. I want out, I want to curse and shout. Get me from your mouth. Haters win, it just all depends if they won't, they won't miss a thing. We have just gone south. Get me, get me from your mouth. Heaven is what's just gone south. Do what you want, leave just your mouth.

EYES FULL OF ROSE
They move, they touch. Perhaps too much. They love to sing, only to be seen. They are cross 'cause they are clean.They are grave 'cause they are green. By tongue, by teeth. By fist or feet. There's two on the nose, it's bloodied and broke. I hid to see. Eyes full of rose. She tips on her toes, her father's ears, they are keen. Late in a dream, it remains to be seen if his grave is in flames. They move, they touch. Perhaps too much. They love to sing, only to be seen. They are cross 'cause they are clean. They are grave 'cause they are green.

MOTHER'S SICK
Mother's sick. She's gone mad. A daughter's tricked, she's been had. Life just don't always fold up neat. Sadness will come in different sheets. As blue eyes state, on your father's face, hides some grace. All those years your youth has stole. How your wife and your body has taken toll, toll, toll. Grab your mother, bring her ears. Tell her things she'll never hear. Like how her bark, it has calmed before her bite, bite, bite. We're beat, beat, beat asleep on feet. Goodnight, night, night let's calm this fight.

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