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letra de the westering - wickerbird

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loose my moorings
the long night’s shorin
for winter

through the pourin
my folly’s forgings
have withered

down
from the pasture
the woodlings will gather
out hither

the owl:
our pastor
the pines all round her:
the scripture

thank god all she lost was rotten
ma fell in her wits besotten
traded all her dresses in for pennies

loot my quarries
for stones they’ve told me
are precious
tell me stories
of h–ry ghosties
all restless

down
through the rapture
the something i’m after
is estrous

the bear
the badger
will sleep in rafters
above us

thank god all you want is wanton
in our hidin’ place forgotten
i’ll keep throwing sorrows down your shoulders

thank them both me and my brother
runnin from the well midsummer
tumbled down; the hills drank all our water

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