Crows 1 (feat. Kimya Dawson)

Birds of a black

Black feather stick together forever and ever and they always remember you

And all of the shit you do

They pass it to the baby birdies and then they remember too

Little baby bluebird's eyes turn black

Without forgetting the face of the guy in the mask

When you see me baby will you scream or will you laugh?

Little baby bluebird's eyes turn black

4 And 20 gory pantone black crows shredding innards

The silouettes are fencing lefty scissors

Separating horn and hoof as own arpeggiators

They piggy back the tombs of all your deadest friends and neighbors

By the getty image, green-cheese moon

Dead-of-winter shit, graveyard tchk! Tchk!

Shifter shit, brother was a face card

Crown like a heart-shaped tunnel of woven branches leaning in over his hydro-plaining pace car chase...

Wait up let me isolate the bass more

Gate of god's acre

Aim to rake the snow off each forsaken name here

Supposedly closure'l free the vipers out the bosom

Personally I think it's a bunch of bullshit

Prisoners, tradition is for lovers

God forbid he flip the witch against her coven on some ‘dip or play the dozens‘

Now I baptize skips in larvae and dental records

On a little plot pregnant with 6 million sentenceenders

And the tech support for tragedy's emphatically horrendous

Teenage operators explaining what bated breath is

Pass, I wish it were something I could diagram on a napkin so you won't feel so detached if it should happen to you privately

Publicly your shadows'll cat call back

Happy to split the button eye and burlap doll

Crack the crypt

Bats eject like cousin death's wing-ed Iapdogs ricocheting sonar of the sacrilege

Now let me slow this whole shit down for all you half-goat cowards

I'll even grit my teeth for you

I am so completely off the god-damn grid it's not a question of addressing me, I

T's "what do these symbols under the dresser mean"

Perhaps a little dash of karma chameleons through the entropy for good/young

Could've used a good lung

Still, proximity to corpses wasn't nothing to the kid but unforgiving science or cinematic horrors

Fast forward, my knee in the gut of a glass

"Remember that cow in the dean's seems awkward

And I know your people donated pints to the same pavement but for ash and bone to share a space with strangers seems outrageous, ain't it?

Maybe a dialog of howls that reshapes thejowls and face somehow relates to whatever you have found among a thousand cloned shrines, either way - dope stone lion

And they call to let you know your friend is dead in a box

The crows have the tools to get the meat out of the box

Scientific, ritualistic, headstone cold foxes still rot

I'm not gonna rot, no, fuck that snot

You can let them let you rot, man

But I'm not going to watch

I'm not gonna stand atop your plot

I love you friend, but I'm just not

On the other hand if your ashes are scattered in the sea

I will swim in the sea and you'll be with me

And if your shit is scattered at the roots of a tree

I will climb that tree

Everything you think you're hiding shows

In the way you view the graves like a string of tiny thrones

Messages you'd tucked away for keeps has resurfaced to be heard amidst the butchery and beaks

You don't want the passengers to pass

You want each cow taxidermy'd fatter than the last

Mausoleum lighting is a rush

While it might enhance a silhouette it might expose a crutch

A proud chest puffed to the heavens

Holds nothing if we're cutting past the muscle and the tendon

And we will be cutting past the muscle and the tendon...