Lyrics The Ends - Subtle

The Ends

It seems sap is sweet on hands
But in trees its subject to an even higher power
And no matter how you feel
It will tend to, tending to keep you alive
And the rest: a simple time stretching of one earth & common fabric…
Of fragile blood run cellular engine and something or other…
Is there no sort of luck involved
In not being born an ant or elephant…
Or is this just, pure and unadulterated math
Water willed, and egg improvised
Until hatched by knife light then…
Mother named, after her extremely painful experience
Allowing the vast maze of birth and mistake
To take its toll on all that practical destiny
And then child-sized specificity
Lain there
Inherent in the once one celled organism
A consummate pin-hole poked in the plot behind planet earth and such
A pin-hole poked… Is enough to sink an entire universe of tiny ships
Freeing all that perfect principal lain inherent
In a step by step schematic of the human dive
And when planets align… all you can do is dive…
And this… this is the soft spear of the human condition
But you yourself are not
You are more…
The pulled on skull of something that was never really all that young
You are more…
One wung
And consumed by your most gross of concerns
Can you remain in love from deep space
With no fish bowl on and a busted communicator…
Or have you everything planned
Is there a simple universal system of buoy and rope
That you would use to tug your weightless mass along on
Till you found a planet that you felt might be just right for you
Or is it possible the view of earth at such a distance
Would have played you for the fool as well…
Hour Hero Yes showed you there’d be days like this…
And they’d come with the rain on of course
A good gallon of reverb let loose on your personal truth
Dark eared on the edge of your sleeping slab
Having been bent born & went phantom dayed
Hope stole on in the equal parts miracle of
Bringing yourself to and from sleep
In calendrical waltz…
All to feel aimed
At last, your heartjaw kissed against the coming dawn…
In dive
Let go at last
Our hero yes is done dove
Safe through several more hypothetical «seconds before death,»
Unto the never similar wilds of his ground teeth powered and b-movie dreams
It begins…
With all white, in a sound proofed hallway
Your staring down the empty eye slits of a lowsocket.
waking
On the floor at the foot of the bright light blocking and locked
Hundredth door of luck
At the opposite end of the hall sits a pair of empty pay public binoculars
Slumped, facing your way
In the dead of their stare, you marvel about
Until you eye this one door that appears to be both half open and closed
And are drawn moth to the bulb
Head down, as if reeled round a gear by the guts
Inching toward your intuit-picked portal of choice…
Now knelt, yet not without nerves in this moment of mostly glory
You look for the knob, and see nothing but healed shut keyhole
Dax-strong in this dream you begin to cut key
In the furthest corner of a clearest skull
When you feel your kneecaps being nursed by a white on white welcome mat
You tilt your skull to read «WOE-BE-GONE» only written wrong or in mirror.
Your hands and heart full of edge, you lift the mat gently
And there beneath it’s omen embroidered, sits an intact wishingbone…
You carefully lift your instrument of certain luck to the door
And it slowly unclenches the scar seem set where it’s keyhole would be…
And so you snap bliss bone, cut wish and begin to lock pick…
Until you hear trough the thick of the door the deadbolt caughing loose…
Suddenly the fear black above your skull, beneath your skin goes wild
As the door of your choice opens itself slowly…
Sealing off your face with perfect stripes of rising bone and angst
Of alabaster and pit
Allowing the bright right light of luck
To completely believe
And eclipse you…