she dreams deja vu:
he's explaining this a second time to you,
this matchbook collection is not to be used.
father started it when he was twenty-two.
and it's quite obscure,
and i'm quite the curator.
contained in a fallacious jewelry box
that screams diamonds and other luxurious rocks,
this decaying, sentimental facade
represents promises he made with his god.
none of which he followed through,
even though he may have intended to.
and i swear i've heard this before.
not fair, this discourse my lord.
she ascends the stairs to the rafters
dredged with cobwebs and happily-ever-afters,
feather boas, dress shoes, wigs of golden locks
below which lies the aforementioned box.
8mm reels marked "family memories"
shed light on what father had in store for his babies.
and she watches his effusive pleas in the small,
dimly lit attic where he recorded the confessionals.
she rips the film out, scatters it across the floor,
strikes a match and bids farewell to what will soon be no more.
attempting to salvage whatever respect he still may have with his god.
without evidence there's no such thing as fraud.
and i swear i've felt this blaze before,
and it's fair you feel it as well my lord.
from Over the Parapet & Into the Precipice
released July 25, 2013
chris newbold: guitar & vocals
joni krieger: guitar, organ & vocals
zee farrouge: bass
danny frye: drums
recorded and mixed at the halfway house 2011-2012 by joni krieger
additional engineering by
robert rios and daniel wheeler
mastered by justin phelps at cloud city sound
all rights reserved