Waiting on the Aftermath

from by Hunt(her)Gather(her)

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Verse 1:
It's looking pre-apocalyptic. Don't believe in role models.
Lather blood on my hands and give winks to the zombies who follow.
It wanted progress, but I told my soul it'd have to suffice.
Keep moving. Rest in Power, Church-girl. Wait for sun to out its lights.
And my thighs could move mountains, and my mind could lead movements.
Cult of suicidal teenagers. Demons laugh in amusement.
I just try to bide my time until Kirito pulls his sword out.
The future stands in the crosshair of Sinon's gun. Judas hangs doubt.
I envision myself in a nightmare. Palms sweaty. Hollow breath.
The smell of rotting flesh of past lovers. I'm fresh to death.
KEEP IT SIMPLE. Did you really think that unity pacts would have your back? KNIVES DON'T.
Emily taught me best that behind door number three, there's nothing left.
Slough off my multiple selves, archetype body for multiple hells.
Genuflect to the me that came before me. Tell Mom that daughters perish as well.
The Inside Man moved out from behind the wheel years ago.
I'm a machete mastodon of thrown roses to heroes graves. I grow.

It's times like this I drown my questions in my whiskey. Drown all the noise within me. Cease.
It's times like this, I drown my questions. Drown my questions.
(Repeat 1X)

Verse 2:
And we're back!
Nose to the ground stone in the wake of the tomb where grandma slept
in a grave marked "nobody," 'cause we couldn't afford the corpse we left.
Moon turned bloody. Unloose the earthworm. Crab claw for day.
She knows it's been seven years since I said my last "in God we pray."
Whole constellations fall for the occasion. I pray for prey.
Eyes on the side of head. Arrow to temple. Watch the Hunt(her) slay.
Word of the Apostle cometh from the darkest corner of Lazarus' crypt.
Witness the holes in palm bloodier than the teen wrists we slit.
Can you feel my madness? (Yes)
Can you feel my sadness? (Yes)
Aren't you f*cking glad you had this? (Yes)
What's regret to clownfish? (Don't know)
Can you hear them laughing?
The zombie wolves come at me.
The Walking Dead are real so stake me, holy-water-bath-me.
Gimme that fish lens to anesthetize my self worth's slope.
Gimme that rosary. Pay tithes to help my mind's eye cope. I stay woke.
Eyes on the prize and cackle at the howls of chupacabra and stab them.
Leave the lover behind until he sees the whole world is laughing at him.


from Something Borrowed, Something True, released April 2, 2015
Produced by Hunt(her)Gather(her), co-produced with Wes Restless
Project art by Hunt(her)Gather(her)



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Hunt(her)Gather(her) Chicago, Illinois

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