god of death

by bly wallentine

/
1.
when the wind turns to ash and the fog masks the pearls when the vines cease to bleed wine and the reeds tangle and curl then shall I whisper, withered and worn bury my heart in gardens of gold and i will belong to you tend to this sapling, keep the roots beating i will belong to you
2.
queen of the crags, forgive my sin child of the crows, my caw wanes thin, amen rise like the blood and the wind place a veil over my head tuck me deep beneath the marble ocean bed i shall breathe again queen of the crags, release my soul child of the crows, make me whole, amen
3.
dwell though i do on the skin that i've shed toil on the past with a needle and thread i decay and i dim with the dusking of the rotting day call though i do on the souls of the dead cold is the corpse at the nape of my bed i decay and i dim with the dusking of the rotting day
4.
oh, the wrinkles in the spit the receding grains of skin as the dander looms aloof above the crown underneath my glassy gaze i am molten and unmade i reserve my tragic past beneath my gown oh, god wept the ocean's depths oh, that that were so oh, to say jehovah wakes oh, that that were so
5.
dawn on me, waning moon bless my feathered lungs, curse the plume when you dawn on me, i am well resurrecting moon, with me dwell sing to me, healing stone bless my weathered breath, curse the bone when you sing to me, i am well restoration stone, with me dwell
6.
what is lost shall be found in the fable of the mourning crow and the blood atop the wilted crag what is loose shall be bound by the wicker and the lavender the winter and the harbinger when god falls ill, will i be still an undead child? in the husk of the dawn grow the lilacs and the peonies the devils become deities with the breath of the north comes a poison and an unclean oil a pallor in the garden's soil light is little and time is few, the garden is unfolding if i am real and god is true, then why are they withholding? though i am weak and i have done wrong, yet i believe i am good though i have hurt the few who could love me, yet i believe i am good
7.
there is a sickening in the soil the fruit of the garden is withered and pale and though i have called upon the rains and winds, i know i've sinned there is a sycamore by the pond who comforts the damned and nurses the pained and though i have often sought its healing salve, i can't get well and from the north here approaches the queen of the crags adorned in the plumes of the child of the crows and though in dreams i've fled this sphere i'm rooted too deeply, i'm bound to the garden i sense an ending, calmly descending, sure and impending taking and lending, straightening and bending, tearing and mending
8.
sanguine is the wine that soothes my sorrow while i clear the petals from the soil demons rage with the setting of the sun my son, has the end begun? the light is gone languid is the beast beneath the earth even dark things do fall prey to time june is vile, though the summer keeps me young my son, has the end begun? the light is gone steady is the flow of milk and honey from the bosom of the god of death i partake 'til my body loses breath my son, has the end begun? the light is gone
9.
in the nodules that invade my lifeline when i am bent for air there is a liquid and a livid humming though the nodules do recede, yet there are scratch marks on their walls and there are blood stains from desperate drumming sometimes late at night when space is shallow and time is thick i am visited by a shadow wearing a stethoscope who, with a dissolute hand upon my chest can sense the presence of two submarines devoid of periscopes and when I turn to leave i find that I've already left and there are splinters of my self in every corner of my vision like a kaleidoscope if only i could sink into an enchanted cleansing lightness oh, how i wish that that were so
10.
cradle my head in your corduroy arms for the candle is lighted and i am in harm's way down here beneath the intoxicant moon i am red like the rhubarb and cold like the spoon though I long for peace, it makes no difference and despite my pleas, i am inconsolable there is no levity in my suffering, when will this burden crumble? there is a gravity that is smothering, under this weight i stumble
11.
there is redemption in the leaky woods and by the weeping leaves am i revived time tore the heavens into distant spheres and if the earth expires i won't survive when should i run & when should i fall? i'm gasping for relief i seek a clarity no living thing can supply, i'm grasping for belief that i shall breathe again though i am weak & i have done wrong, yet i am good though i have hurt the few who could love me, i am good

about

thank you all so much for everything you've done for me. ❤

credits

released August 29, 2017

artwork by christian degn petersen // moraynoise.bandcamp.com

all songs written, arranged, recorded, and mixed by stephen cope at studio studio dada // studiostudiodada.com

stephen cope
~ vocals, guitar, orchestration, piano, bass, banjo, organ, pump organ, mellotron, percussion/noises, trumpet, flute, violin

stuart wheeler // thisisaquiethouse.bandcamp.com
~ piano on gardens of gold/child of the crows/jehovah wakes/dawn on me, waning moon/the weeping leaves
~ trombone and pump organ on an enchanted cleansing lightness

jesse quebbeman-turley // jesseqt.bandcamp.com
~ drums on gardens of gold/child of the crows/dawn on me, waning moon/the wicker and the lavender/the weeping leaves

alex vincent // mangalore.bandcamp.com
~ bass on child of the crows

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bly wallentine Provo, Utah

bly wallentine makes records with their loved ones in provo, utah.

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