Lapochka

How long must I wait
How long must I wait
Til the mountains of avarice turn blue?
How long must I wait
How long must I wait
Til the moleskin I pick becomes fused?
The avulsion whims its spurs in the pinches of my earth
The dust I kick from animus shatters
Recorded on my reels of tape, the trauma stops my flow
And in your suppression tastes sulfur
Hear the children say
Tear of mended sails
How long must I wait
How long must I wait
Til the mountains of avarice turn blue?
How long must I wait
How long must I wait
Til the moleskin I pick becomes fused?
As if suddenly your avalanche
Reverses my polarity
And secretly come Sunday morning
Standing at the pulpit to an empty room
Hear the children say
Tear of mended sails
How long must I wait
How long must I wait
Til the mountains of avarice turn blue?
How long must I wait
How long must I wait
Til the moleskin I pick becomes fused?
The drowning water you drink, passed on by birth
I’m no longer willing to give you control
Water you drink, passed on by birth
I’m no longer willing to give you control