WORDS

INTUITION

Grief shapes grief shapes
from heart escape.
Fear, fear.
Senses say ‘retaliate’.
Waking from the dream is brave
and you know nothing is saved.
Move my vision,

Intuition – Intuition – Intuition.
And you can kill or be prey.

Future I saw
raw and hostile
trial, trial.
Senseless to retaliate
Is it the ripeness of time?
Is it the glacial light?
Disturbs my vision,

Intuition – Intuition – Intuition.
And you can kill or be prey.

Intuition – Intuition – Intuition
Intuition.

BLOEDEL

And its painless, sitting in Subterranea
Ancient reference to Mesopotamia

And its quiet again, oh. Hidden fragments, surface now.
Repetitious history. Once more time for the record, oh oh oh
One more time for the record, oh.

2013 Philippsburg Confederate graves
Are uncovered, throwing new light on
This 19th century conflict, sparking a repeat
These southern spectres were disease ridden, dusty, organic
And psychic

Rebellious mistakes occur again
everything moving in a circular fashion
our words, return in patterns
Our minds encapsulating time

Gregoror, satiated walking thru’ capitol
Stumbles on two thousand dead Thai monks in SS uniforms
Then fled to Hotel Bloedel, outside Nuremberg
A long way south, to a reasonable smell of death

And its quiet again, oh. Hidden figments, surface now.
Repetitious history. Once more time for the record, oh oh oh
One more time for the record, oh.
Repetitious history. Once more time for the record, oh oh oh
One more time for the record, oh.

(Mark Smith, Brix Smith, Steve Hanley)