guitar : Noah Whitnah
film & edit : Samantha Schneider
. L Y R I C S .
the surface tension is a salty noose around my neck
the horizon a swiftly approaching guillotine
these waves are wayward drunkards, stumbling
this lantern's out of kerosene
'three sheets to the wind', they swell & roar,
'and swallow the righteous whole!'
they drank the wine & sold their souls
in the depths no one hears my calls
it's deep & my legs are dangling
it's wide & eyes are straining
to find a lighthouse alive in the midst of the tempest
still bright enough to guide hope through the storm of the winepress
oh! outside the city gates
tred quickly, tred quickly!
will a flame be found ablaze enough to stand firm
against a dousing of gasoline;
will you drown or will you burn?
behold, the spirit is coming swiftly
and you best be making yourself ready
because when the moon bleeds & the sky turns black
don't be disheartened when you hear the clap of thunder
it's a jealous love
and those who know His voice will surely not run
dear child, don't be offended!
when the blood flows high to the horses neck
and your mother's sons abandon you
your name they forget
oh forgetful sea!
'where did we come from?
where are we?'
well she devoured your memory
there are skeletons in the water below
ivory shadows swimming 10,000 leagues
but they'll never break the surface
never breathe fast or slow
if you don't reach in & grab them
they'll stay lost in fatigue
but i grow bone thin too
and my throat course from prayer
I am the song of the inebriated
the mockery of reckless despair
well I've been collecting fuel in my chest
and my heart has been pumping kerosene for some time
my veins ready to burst into flames with the rest
of my body; put this love to the test
I have a kindled heart, just give me a spark!
I've set my face as flint, let a great fire start!
zeal for the house of your Father consumes me!
burn so hot that it dries up this sea!
sons & daughters, it's time
open wide, prophesy
old men, go to sleep,
all flesh, wake up to the wind, it's time
it's pouring forth, bursting the seems
we'll be like anchors, we'll be like anchors undeterred by the storm
buried deep in the sand with no need to mourn
and we the redeemed walk barefoot on dry land
where the ocean once swelled & roared
a remnant of beacons blazing forth on the trail
singing wedding songs in one accord
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