Churches Under The Stairs - Brendan Canning
With the synth and sound
We might just believe
That we could do
All the things
In our minds
With exacto knives and bings
That will make you write
All the sounds
All men traded into worlds
Where we due to love
And defined
All the leaves
That we can speak about Well
You know
Where you like
That the cinder blocks
Are taking up our view
For a while
With the simple mathematics
Of our lives
And design
There's a head that
Pointed five degrees to the right;
Do you know
There will only be
So many of our kind
Give us some of the ghost notes oh
Give us some of the chosen oh
Give us some of the closing slots oh
Give us some of the falsest hope
We are lies
And go right down
Through the suction
On the great eye
And we climb;
Do you know the knee
Scrapes represent that we thought
Of design
It comes in
And rolls you
Out with thoughts of the world
Not in line;
Do you think
That they're imaginary hearts
It was right
To return to pieces
Of the circle where
We declined
I know military moments
Will believe us;
It's a sound
And a tick-tock to the world
That tells you how
You arrive;
Do you think that we are momentary
Give us some of the ghost notes oh
Give us some of the chosen oh
Give us some of the closing slots oh
Give us some of the falsest hope
This is where the like
The like rude choir comes in
Alright
It goes like this
'Cause we wanna love
Wanna sift through the
Creation time by night
With your thoughts;
You know I am just a literary fox
With a song
They come in like shells
And sink right through the world
And the rhyme
You know pieces of the poetry go out
For the cause;
Does it feel like somethings missing
Time to concede
For a while
Because all that's right is always;
That's what's wrong
In your mind
Are the churches right beneath
The stairs of your house
And the time
It's the tick-tock going out and weary