When the Bone Moon Dies - Maritime

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Glass of September, compass of hunger.

my magnetic blood don’t turn me wrong.

Prints on the window, the size of a t-shirt

we’d hurry when the lights come on and on.

If you hear me now come on.

If you’re breathing hard come on.

Come on.

All of the lies that your throat tells the morning when the bone moon dies

All of the pieces of your heart that you cannot hide

Don’t stop now.

Piano hammer, soft hands and echoes.

So many songs to walk along.

The quiet of Boston, dogs bark at the winter.

An accordion of your rib cage.

Birds in the grey sky, did we burn the house down.

Guide my hand, are we dead — on and on.

If you hear me now come on.

If you’re breathing hard come on.

Come on.

All of the lies that your throat tells the morning when the bone moon dies

All of the pieces of your heart that you cannot hide though you really want

to try.