Lyricist, Artist and Photographer in Asheville, NC USA.
Oh Mother, there’re
Wolves at the Helm.
You’ll know them by the
Blood on their mouths
And the company they keep.
All hail carnivorous Shepherd of Sheep.
We’re found dumbfounded
By smart suits and sharp teeth.
Oh Mother, there're
Wolves at the Helm
Oh, we’re going down
Going down
Down now
By moonlight they’ll
Laugh, feast, and howl.
We’ve ripped the wool from our eyes
And stuffed it in our mouths.
Their hungry claws are
Tearing holes in the bow.
We fill them with lint,
Turning our pockets out.
Oh, we’re going down
Going down
Down now
Save the women, the children,
The sick and the old.
But the seats on the lifeboats have all
Been bought with gold.
Oh Momma,
There’re wolves at the Helm.
Can you see it?
See it?
See it now?
From your dark ocean bed
That you made yourselves.
Father sliced into the bellies of fish
While Mother knelt at the table,
Cutting out prayers
And placing them on her lips.
She will always take back what is hers.
The holy walk
On muddy waters.
The horizon divides
Distance and time.
Tells stories of
Nearness and lines,
Of hopes and dreams
And darkening skies.
This marks the place and time
When you knew things could unwind.
And you unfold like a paper crane in the wind.
We all come undone every now and then,
Until we all come together,
Come Hell or high water.
If we go, let them say
We drowned drinking in life…
Different now than at the start,
We hope on cue, an art.
Taking life in stride,
Letting go, what’s taken by the tide.
It comes and goes in waves,
And I swear I’ll be brave.
Watermarks on the pillowcase.
My mind a graveyard of unfinished poems,
So far from the surface.
Can I find some peace
With this piece of mind,
And trace the edges
With silver lines.
I crumble more with every haunted rubble I’m shown;
Still I’m the only ghost I’ve ever known.
Let them say,
We drowned, drinking in life…
Toasting the glow of sunny days.
And it comes and goes in waves,
Watermarks on your pillowcase,
While your Mother prays
For the lives she takes.
Here we are all made of bones and clay
And Muddy water.
Oh Mother, there’re
Wolves at the Helm.
You’ll know them by the
Blood on their mouths
And the company they keep.
All hail carnivorous Shepherd of Sheep.
We’re found dumbfounded
By smart suits and sharp teeth.
Oh Mother, there're
Wolves at the Helm
Oh, we’re going down
Going down
Down now
By moonlight they’ll
Laugh, feast, and howl.
We’ve ripped the wool from our eyes
And stuffed it in our mouths.
Their hungry claws are
Tearing holes in the bow.
We fill them with lint,
Turning our pockets out.
Oh, we’re going down
Going down
Down now
Save the women, the children,
The sick and the old.
But the seats on the lifeboats have all
Been bought with gold.
Oh Momma,
There’re wolves at the Helm.
Can you see it?
See it?
See it now?
From your dark ocean bed
That you made yourselves.
Father sliced into the bellies of fish
While Mother knelt at the table,
Cutting out prayers
And placing them on her lips.
She will always take back what is hers.
The holy walk
On muddy waters.
The horizon divides
Distance and time.
Tells stories of
Nearness and lines,
Of hopes and dreams
And darkening skies.
This marks the place and time
When you knew things could unwind.
And you unfold like a paper crane in the wind.
We all come undone every now and then,
Until we all come together,
Come Hell or high water.
If we go, let them say
We drowned drinking in life…
Different now than at the start,
We hope on cue, an art.
Taking life in stride,
Letting go, what’s taken by the tide.
It comes and goes in waves,
And I swear I’ll be brave.
Watermarks on the pillowcase.
My mind a graveyard of unfinished poems,
So far from the surface.
Can I find some peace
With this piece of mind,
And trace the edges
With silver lines.
I crumble more with every haunted rubble I’m shown;
Still I’m the only ghost I’ve ever known.
Let them say,
We drowned, drinking in life…
Toasting the glow of sunny days.
And it comes and goes in waves,
Watermarks on your pillowcase,
While your Mother prays
For the lives she takes.
Here we are all made of bones and clay
And Muddy water.
Oh Mother, there’re
Wolves at the Helm.
You’ll know them by the
Blood on their mouths
And the company they keep.
All hail carnivorous Shepherd of Sheep.
We’re found dumbfounded
By smart suits and sharp teeth.
Oh Mother, there're
Wolves at the Helm
Oh, we’re going down
Going down
Down now
By moonlight they’ll
Laugh, feast, and howl.
We’ve ripped the wool from our eyes
And stuffed it in our mouths.
Their hungry claws are
Tearing holes in the bow.
We fill them with lint,
Turning our pockets out.
Oh, we’re going down
Going down
Down now
Save the women, the children,
The sick and the old.
But the seats on the lifeboats have all
Been bought with gold.
Oh Momma,
There’re wolves at the Helm.
Can you see it?
See it?
See it now?
From your dark ocean bed
That you made yourselves.
Father sliced into the bellies of fish
While Mother knelt at the table,
Cutting out prayers
And placing them on her lips.
She will always take back what is hers.
The holy walk
On muddy waters.
The horizon divides
Distance and time.
Tells stories of
Nearness and lines,
Of hopes and dreams
And darkening skies.
This marks the place and time
When you knew things could unwind.
And you unfold like a paper crane in the wind.
We all come undone every now and then,
Until we all come together,
Come Hell or high water.
If we go, let them say
We drowned drinking in life…
Different now than at the start,
We hope on cue, an art.
Taking life in stride,
Letting go, what’s taken by the tide.
It comes and goes in waves,
And I swear I’ll be brave.
Watermarks on the pillowcase.
My mind a graveyard of unfinished poems,
So far from the surface.
Can I find some peace
With this piece of mind,
And trace the edges
With silver lines.
I crumble more with every haunted rubble I’m shown;
Still I’m the only ghost I’ve ever known.
Let them say,
We drowned, drinking in life…
Toasting the glow of sunny days.
And it comes and goes in waves,
Watermarks on your pillowcase,
While your Mother prays
For the lives she takes.
Here we are all made of bones and clay
And Muddy water.
Lyricist, Artist and Photographer in Asheville, NC USA.
