I trace the truth down to its root
It’s not me that you sing to
It’s not me that you scoop
Up all the blossoms to bring to
And if I know the answer,
What makes me ask…
And if I know the answer,
Why do I
Leave this heart ajar?
Can’t we find some sort of truce?
Turn down your gas-lit eyes a notch or two?
Don’t drink up mine ‘til they’re removed
From their sockets, and could you
Keep in your pockets, those fine-boned hands
Mine want to hold, but can’t
Keep in your pockets those fine-boned hands –
Or should I
Leave this heart ajar?
Sky cracks open and I’m soaking
Floating on the muck ocean
Spread out like a palm, groping
For the tiniest of tokens
And I’m snatching at the rotten blossoms
That go bobbing past
I’m snatching at the blossoms…
Why did you let me
Smooth, sophisticated pop with neoclassical flourishes from the Berlin-based duo of Fabian Till and Birk Buttcherey. Bandcamp New & Notable May 2, 2024