BlindBlindBlind - Silver Mt. Zion

The dust and the mess of our mornings,

promise that we’ll never quit --

So drunk, though our hands surely woven

Entire fleets of staggering ships…

Now our ships line the floors of the ocean,

and the ocean’s breach on the ridge,

and the terrified dreams of our wanderings

that once lit our way are now hid…

We want punks in the palace --

'cause punks got the loveliest dreams

and our gang is liquored and lovely,

and smart and sweet and lean,

and burn with a curious flame

that spits and kicks and shines

and trumpets the labor of waking and trying…

There ain’t none — sometimes there is —

banged and bitter — but cling to it —

power’s the province of miserable pricks

there ain’t none but sometimes there is…

Policemen in parallel lines = blind!

blind!

blind!

The broken bones of quivering pines

while empty waters rise.

May the light of our striving still shine!

Blind!

Blind!

Blind!

May the light of our striving still shine!

May the light of our striving still shine!

Love the horse or leave the horse,

Love the horse or leave the horse,

Lover oh lover oh lover oh lover…

(god damn you lover)

Some!

Hearts!

Are!

True!

Some!

Hearts!

Are!

True!

Ahoy!

Ye bland plump boys —

Go tear wings for vainful gain =

our homemade s like forest fires,

hiss 'neath golden rain

and slip the leash and the chain,

and slip the leash and the chain --

'cause some hearts are true

but some hearts aren’t hardly true

but some hearts are true…