Bury It - Alter Der Ruine

Asked me to ghost him

I don’t like spirits

The one I talk to won’t respond

Just sits on a still machine and she can tell that the quiet isn’t ringing the

bells.

And why, is it such a long way down?

And why, must we rip up the ground?

Choked into a knot, they never concede

With eyes like boulders that roll for the trees

(and) hands around our neck

with nothing to say but plenty to spit

And some day, we want a firmer grip

But these days, we’re all splinters scattered amongst the wood-chips

(chorus)

Bury It, bury it, bury it until it calls

with airborn ashes, spread from eight legs

to burn out all the graves.

We’ll know when it’s free,

the womb won’t be so kind

as to keep us sheltered in echoes

from a scream that died long ago.

Hallucinations.

The voiceless faces

Woven together too fine

To provide comfort outside

When limbs shake, when the bead groans

Try, braining a thought against a wall

Tried, but the answer doesn’t soften the withdrawals

Detuned disposal, long and hard or short

Hung like moss, from a rotting branch

Tendrils away, ever searching, will this be it?

Will this be it?

Left, gutted in the mud

Just like a skeleton, the one we always want to find