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The Dark Forest

by Dear Astronaut

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There's a darkness 'round here, there's a path that leads into the forest. She saw a man without a face, with thick black hair and a suit of gray, a dandelion in his lapel and fingernails that stretched from here to Hell. And the water fell from around her knees, in that guarded places amongst the trees where that faceless man would lay her down, dandelions and pine needles all around. He lead her to a silent stream and there they stood in the windless breeze, their feet planted firmly in the grassless green. The sun and the sky were nowhere to be seen. The dark forest became engulfed in flames and no one heard her scream in pain as those fingernails fell through her flesh, the faceless man laughing at his prey. The wolves howl for the moon to light her way. The birds fall silent once again. And I wish I'd been there by that stream. Oh, Anna, you know it's good to try and leave this all behind, so Anna, take my hand. I'll lead you from this lifeless place. And Anna, please be good. Just close your eyes and try to see the filament by taken the wind.
The love we share knows no limits, it stretches as far as the eye can see. And the lies we tell are religious--we believe them just to believe. When the roses fell from your fingers, you gripped your cigarette between your teeth, you dropped down to your knees and broke that week's long silence. You begged me for forgiveness. You must have forgotten who I am. The car was still running in the driveway, yearning to be driven by other men. The moon was rising above the river while the sun fell on the west. I pictured chrysanthemums out in the garden, you planting them in your Sunday best. So take all the books from the bookshelves, bring the furniture out to the street. Empty the hallway closet and gather up the photos like so many falling leaves. We'll raid the liquor cabinet, looking to fuel the heat. Pour the vodka out on the carpet. Set fire to our surviving dreams.
The Spider 10:22
The spider sleeps on satin sheets laid out on the hardwood floor while your father's fingers trace circles on your back behind the locked bathroom door. Your mother breathes shallowly on the couch in the living room. She fell asleep watching TV with the dog curled at her feet. The tiles absorb the light. The mirror is just out of sight. The water spilling from the faucet, filling the porcelain tub. Your father's fingers were thick and short and calloused on the tips. Your father's lips were thin and dark and spiders fell from there.
The Black Lake (free) 03:41
I went to the lake. I was looking for you, but you must have already left. You were always the impetous one. Well, it was getting dark, there in the woods when they found your body in the soft wet ground. I couldn't bring myself to look, the way your limbs went limp when they picked you up, the way your legs fell to one side. And I remember long ago when our fathers brought us to this black lake. They threw us in to teach us how to breathe again. I went to the lake. I was thinking of you and the way your legs fell, and the way we're all just animals.
The Bells 06:52
Pour this water over my head, wait not for a sound. Ask not about a child's grief, for I was glory bound. I was born a dangerous woman, I was born too soon. I left my home in Tennessee, and I let my candles burn. The sunlight fell upon your face like a hailstorm hits the ground. The streets were rife with beggar's children and I still recall their howls. Like old gray dogs without homes, blood crusted on their coats, with desperate eyes they held open palms and I tried hard not to look. We walked the streets until just past the midnight, when the shaking would finally subside. We built our home in an alleyway behind a butcher shop. The sun rose high above the cathedral just across the square. The bells rang out to shattered ears. I won't forget their sounds.


released February 13, 2007

J. Ebben: electric guitar, vocal
Frank Knaebe: bass guitar, vocal
Scott Emmerich: drums, vocal

Recorded January 12, 2007 at the Breakfast Nook. Engineered and mixed by Frank Knaebe.


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