Post Tropical

There is so little left from the warmth of the sun There is so little left from the warmth of the sun There is so little left from the warmth of the sun Tell me this is it Where nothing starts Been in where we almost missed Staggered that it did not

speak until the dust settles in the same specific place light refused to go drink it from a cast and iron plate instead of cold milk was offered unripe instead of silence considered craven nothing made it seem hidden where the aging soil was pure pre

Gold - James Vincent McMorrow How was the gold? Along the path of eternity hold Although it called on a pair on it's way Blind in the hot grass and called endlessly Now we're so slow. Why do you cry Reclaim your passing and passing outside And now we

I will not cave under you For my heart is an unending tomb I will not trouble your rest For my heart is infinity blessed Ever a hard rot Cut from an ancient cloth of old Someone is ringing a bell It chimes through this shimmering shell That once was

Look Out - James Vincent McMorrow Out with the golden we sew And the lower past that crawls Now, to the doorway you run To the girl that's not enough Shower's looking, now we're peeking over, I was lucky In the calm the feather flip the so, of harlot