The red lipstick rim around your fist,
Drawn-on face, stronger cocktails make it fine to laugh at it.
The marker isn't permanent, or the fingers lacquered black.
Just a hint with no regrets.
The model cadaver in fitted slacks.
When you look behind, what do you see? What do you see?
Was it better then to lose your time quietly, quietly?
I get betrayed by little bones whittled like an ugly joke,
Tongued maliciously to life.
An apparition, an oil slick
Traveling across a caustic sea of raw anatomy,
Staggering in baggy clothes.
When I look behind, that wasn't me, that wasn't me.
And I feel it even if no one agrees, no one agrees.
When you look ahead, what do you see, what do you see?
If you've given up is it better now?
Do you really think you're not struggling?
We are buried in our bodies either way.
We are buried in our bodies.
But I know how I want mine today.
from Your Last Home,
released June 9, 2017
music and lyrics by noll griffin
vocals, acoustic guitar, and slide guitar: noll griffin