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letra de tree of job - the illalogical spoon

“dark was the night
cold was the ground”
far off to the forest
we followed the sound
found the fen felled then renounced
only one tree now around
the marooned old man who moans, beholding
knowing what is going down
larch on loam here once grown
now the bones are ground to compose
a house to house the owls
and all whose lamentations now arouse
the growls of wildlife
brave by “midnight special” bright
hear the howls of wolves i think i might–
guards pump and strum electric light
a-buzzin’ strong, invades the night
our vision blurred but still we strain
to find the word remaining in the vine
whose sap is wine

oh cover my blood
oh cover my blood, oh earth
may there be no rest for the cry of my hurt
turn not away from my face
turn not away from my face
of open wounds
you see some have come but would not look
under the light of moon
they spoke with holy words
each one was a tooth of a saw submerged
tearing at my trunk “take it out!” i say
but the blood stays on the blade
the blood stays on the blade
the blood stays on the blade

underneath his branches the worn prophet slept
sound with ease like mounds of leaves
or pyres of lies and death
the truth and pain icicles hang from job’s hands
he stays awake, death of the world to demonstrate
in haunted heartwood heavily stays
honest about the miseries of our age
none can now assume we’ll see a new day
none can now assume we’ll see a new day

we acquiesce to this rhythmic agony
accept the tension with much wrestling in melody
the assimilated optimists how they all agree
sayin “ain’t they a hopeless lot”
“nothing our movements would want” “no surely not”
“it’s absurd to spree with morbidity, we’ll flee, and hug our happy thoughts”

then out of the shadows of the forest
the afflicted and the stricken join the chorus
of awe and anger light the spark lain latent
in the assembly of the suffering servant
assembly of the suffering servant
assembly of the suffering servant
begin to dance though hobblin’ and swervin’

(documentary on potawatami who were relocated to the great plains from the great lakes.)

so now face our flame
you froze frown of pain
this gift lifts snow to mist
sends the spring rain
mm mm mm mm mm mmm
come ship of storm our fury forms to
affirm faith bold, play the h-rns
we hold these sorrows evident
for the joy before us sent
mmmmmmmmm

now welcome round our ring to sing
and scream
warm your strings
your lyre is right to raise red fire
is it sadness?
no! its raging desire and love!

now learn the tale the trees have known
don’t fear the abyss you’ve been shown
your groaning will echo the earth’s own
and our urgency will grow
mmmmm
soak this thread up in your bones
juxtaposed with the word
that you heard when god stood and said this is good
it’s the place that we come from
god’s poem to god’s works
and its where we shall return to
for the heart of this earth is good
mmmmm
it is good
mmmmm
it is good
ooooo
it is good
ooooo
it is good

i believe in the future
we shall suffer more!

frawny face reflected in the water in the way
fall through i’m free to feel new and fey
to a soul sung song, oh washtenong sepee
baptized in this dirge down deep and dirty
born new now formed you, thou town glum and gritty
you’re born into blues when you’re born in this city

how goes the world?
not well!
but the kingdom comes!
but the kingdom comes!

and if you cannot hear it
hope shouts “no!” unto god’s silence
the bells of the apocalypse toll for thee
my eyes were closing due to freezing
prison city will not be thawing
guilty of everything, approaching the end
bells of the apocalypse call for thee

the lame will take the plunder and the
wild will reclaim!
come thou spirit sabotage our hearts so technified
(a wild and spirited horse now rides to the gates of heaven where the rider cries)
it is time!
it is time!
it is time!
it is time!
it is time!
it is time!
it is time!

- the illalogical spoon

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