CocoRosie - Grey Oceans - Undertaker
[ Mail Delivery Subsystem ]
Upon return. There is a return. Between each clap the air wears the silence. The hills, the miles, the sweat and the silence. coincidental and/or circumstantial warmth… and the silence. disbanding and branding and sanding to a fine finish. they drink from their personalized mugs and already know. to be continued and to be considered. lately laboriously littering lackadaisical letters leaving little love left. Their dreams are on the side of their faces every morning, a salty crust dried alongside their lips with the subtle stench of the previous night’s conversation. A garden of lovers harvested too soon. A basket of thoughts left out too long now molding and giving birth the the fruit flies that only know to eat, fuck, and give birth to the disgusting little white maggots that soon turn into those flies that will do the same when they return.