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Blankets and Rivers

from Belmont EP by Belmont

/

lyrics

He is a river and he runs cold.
I stood above his crying form,
And I watched him die.

Then she cradled water in her arms.
He called for blankets and huddled in close,
But those were cold too.

Fire is warm just a bitter old man--
Or a temptress at best.
Oh, his hands they do harm.

But she knows that stories they are all told;
Simply pages of words.
An unlikely band of brothers in arms
Breaking brittle old bones.
Fire pushed through and burst the veins
Deep down in blood ridden arms.

The clots formed with speed more like an ox.
They rushed in on dreaded three four time
Dropping powerful stones.

Then fire, she grew out from oxen mad arms
And ran through his veins in a pulse of contempt
And she set him ablaze.

Fire sat burning lives the rest of his time.
His thighs all rash ridden red
Drinking hate from his can.

But he knows that poems they are all sad
All jumbled and sound.
And arms are just twigs from tindering trees that are never in bloom
Then ice reached his heart and stopped him dead in
His blood ridden form.

credits

from Belmont EP, released January 16, 2015

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Belmont Columbus, Ohio

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