God knows this is torture is a hell of a teacher, visions of the future in the time of the preacher. The plea it is ancient, my mind is in danger. Just give me a rain check and leave me in anger. Wheels turning around, vessel run aground, thoughts not lost, but found by Insomnia, the bitch. Naked in the street, offered to concrete, kneeling at the feet of Insomnia, the bitch. Heart racing, feet pacing, pride tasting, space wasting. He wouldn’t let you get away with this if he were only here. It’s waking and shaking, no nightmares tonight for you my dear. A crow’s up there screaming, “We’re all going to die”. The mothers all cradle; the children all cry. Threatened and selfish the masses all twirl. The answer’s in death for a green little girl. I’m not taking any chances. I know how the eye dances: simple checks and darting glances, a little hope, middle of the night. Wounds weep, breathe deep, count sheep, go to sleep.


from Renaissance Beast, released November 2, 2014
BS - banjo, cello, bass, 12-string guitar, melody harp, recorder, percussion, vocoder
Bradford Highnam - drums



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Brooks Strause Iowa City, Iowa


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