Tremor

from Open Graves: The Complete Recordings by Behold

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lyrics

Three years, ten months, seventeen days
A constant refrain, uniform static, white noise
I’m shutting my eyes to the waking aversion of our past
A bitter taste met with your stale, piercing eyes
Skin and bone, hair and nails
Limbs will wear, flesh will tear, and hope will cease
An ode to dear gods of consequence:
I could have just lied there, let my fingertips grace the soil
Let myself sink into the soft earth
I felt the rain pouring down across my face
Eyes red with confusion, head hung from exhaustion
My hands shook and knees buckled under your tremor weight
An ode to dear gods of solace:
Who laughs last, the dead or the dying?
I’m one foot in the grave, with the second to follow
For when I can’t face the mirror, for yawns in the span of years
For when days are their heaviest, for when nights are their darkest
I’ve all the answers to questions I’ve never asked
An ode to dear gods of promise:
This is a fresh breath from tired lungs
A new beat from a weary heart