Upon the Mountains

from by Lunchtime in the English Room

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An earlier (more cringeworthy) version of this song was featured on Kodon, a compilation of music and writing.


We've all had sorrow's arrows through our hands
The blood, like wax, caking our fingertips
Horses abandoned our chariots, leaving the yolks in our laps
We withered and hung half-mast in the desert night

Shivers from misery's ghosts in our chambers
Haunting the hollows of our hearts
Slowly-formed icicles upon our eyelids
Pulling them down to the ground
We long for someone warm to kiss our frozen eyes

We are the vessels at sea
Strong in our vague memories
Dying to live
Pulled by the fingers of waves
Our wooden shoulders assailed
Leaving us shards and splints
And as we gasp for our days
Our fickle arms course with ache
As we sink down

Upon the mountains
There is a rider
On a white horse, in wings of dawn


from A Glass Sea, released December 1, 2012



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Lunchtime in the English Room Winnipeg, Manitoba

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