1. |
Setting (demo)
04:23
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How soon will the setting sun
Focus my face towards the distant dawn?
And how late will I stay and wait,
To cleanse my skin with its oily rays?
When will I move my rusted bones?
How blue must the sky's hue show,
For it to convince me it's akin to your glow?
And how tall must my good friend, the spruce grow,
For its tallest branch to lift me like your finger to my
Jaw, jaw.
And fingering slowly my creaking bones,
A burrowed gut below my throat.
Still, nothing to crease my wrinkled lungs.
And it won't be some tragedy that forces me to fall,
It will be the bad reception on the radio,
That brings this feeling out of me,
And turns my bones to stone.
And I will take a long time,
To get where I belong.
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2. |
Kill You (demo)
02:07
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Well, that was on the TV screen,
Flashing on and off- on and off.
'I gotta get back to the street, oh,
I gotta get back to the street.
If I don't, they gon' kill me,
And if they don't,
They're gonna put a gun to my head.
Well, they're gonna put a gun to my head!'
That's what the man said to me. He said-
'You better run, you you you, better run,
'They can't hear you if you're dead!
No, they can't hear you if you're dead!
They're gonna kill you,
And if they don't,
They're gonna find out where you are!
Gonna find out where you are.'
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3. |
Fisher Cat (demo)
04:15
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His generation bowled with our eyeballs for the holes...
And, screaching like a fisher cat, clawed at our nose.
For sucking the savings of blood in our throats,
We'd set him a trap to pay for the toll.
He'd be howling aloud.
Baring teeth we caged, his naked breath enforces-
We never should have borrowed against our house.
He's a gray foul creature that would
Sip from the flesh of some old rotten carrion.
Howling aloud.
Well, maybe now,
The blood in his eyes will tear his disguse,
And the red hot sun,
It will dry his white heart.
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4. |
Spirit (demo)
03:02
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We are the naked carpenters;
We make love into life.
We ready the belly's cord
To marry the knife.
No wood, no plastic,
Just bones and skin.
These little critters with their eyes all aglow-
Oh my!
Their little stubs masquerading as toes-
Oh my!
Breathe into sunlight- shine, and breathe back.
You call it spirit, but what good is a name,
For the will to grow, the will to stand?
Taken aback, I can't even stand it.
I long to feel that. But I'm taken aback.
And taken aback, its father; stronger, perhaps.
Taken aback.
The will to grow, the will to stand,
With eyes aglow.
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Firefoot New York
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