My hands are smaller than the mess I found them in.
Scratch your ideas, warning labels on my skin.
My lungs are smaller than the words I have to use
To shape and soothe a phantom wreck.
Spinning out anemic blues and slender neck,
I'm never eager to describe the truth, I know what's next.
Bleed once for them, for yes, and bleed a little more
Cuz' you're the guest.
They only love the host, the anxious twitch of
Can't be elastic past a moment at your birth for them,
And kindness turns to grieving far more easily than they say.
Why would I ever want it when you made it feel this way?
No chance to lay my willful life below a painless name.
Why isn't it scandalous to walk me to the edge?
All I hear is how I form a waste, a defect.
All my needs are broken vessels to be pressed,
By your hands, begin the bruise, ready and violent
With all your lies you're casting wide, hoping they come true.
I owe nothing if I'm nothing next to you.
No more courtesy is ever getting through.
I've gotten bigger than the places left to hide.
Give me a cupboard with a door too tight to pry.
Give me a shadow in the dark to walk behind.
I'll beg the devil if your god won't take a side.
I'll beg the devil if your god is dead inside,
Motionless and powerless just like you'd have me be,
In decomposing purgatory for eternity.
from Your Last Home,
released June 9, 2017
music and lyrics by noll griffin
additional arrangement by collin rowell
vocals and acoustic guitar: noll griffin
elektron programming, bowed guitar, backing vocals, hawk guitar: collin rowell