Duende (The Soil Is Closer Than The Sky)

Black bitter milk we drink in toast to the dawn

In huddled silence as a long night falls

We write of love upon the bodies of our dead

Swallow pride and venom for our daily bread

Duende

Wash your conscience in the tears of men who rape

Trace your pleasures in the outlines of pain

You speak of laws and rights in this day and age?

I don't believe in anything i can't taste

Duende

And tonight the losers sleep, or lie awake and gnaw their wrists

Crippled dancers, beaten heroes, squandered artists

Refugees from those wretched lands

Where our dreams died like lovers in our hands

While outside in that new age

Lost children and devils play

On the very doorsteps of our homes

New deities sworn in

Consuming from without and from within

Clean the land down to bare and blackened bones

Make ready ten billion beds in hell

For we're all coming soon

And in this noise, the dreadful silence of tongues

Tied by words never spoken, songs left unsung

Vows that were bent rather than broken

Locked chambers that will never open

And none on this earth will ever get what they want

And that is beautiful, or close enough

And we'll clutch our regrets

Shut out the rest

Cut out the hearts from our chests

And we move

Eyes shut, silent, hand in hand

Towards a broken promised land

When those before you lost their heads upon the block

Or sold themselves into the services of the

Snakes as new gods

Reshape the world in their own image

And all the others turn their eyes away

We will set out with a fire in our hearts

With a desire that cannot be bought

To snatch the morning from the jaws of the night

To take the dead and bring them back to life

Duende

From childhood schemes on stranger's floors

To sickbeds, cells

And foreign shores

Homeless

Heartless

Restless

Selfless

Lifeless

Loveless

Less and

Less and

Less

And if the morning comes late this time

That fickle sun will rise to find

My fingers clutched tight around the husks

Of dreams i built from dust

Finally dead

Dead in the land of the dead

And they will call it suicide

As i scream for just one finger of dawn

And it's coming

On all horizons, like gathering clouds

Bar the doors to shut it out

But put your ear to your chest

You will hear

In your own breast

Hoof beats

Closing in

And there's nothing pure in this place

And there's nothing clean in this place

And there's nothing sure in this place

And there's nothing free in this place

And in this world there's nothing safe

And in this world there's nothing fair

And nothing in this world is true

This world that i can't bear

And the morning came late

I'll spit it back in your face

Last-born of an evil race

We're all evil in this place

Just fucking give me a taste.