The spigot gives no water, we are without clean clothes tonight,
and as if we stuttered, begging for rain, the clouds begin to call our names, in the form of thunder, the road infested with our steps,
and the council wondered where we went, when not a single trace was left.
We are not alone, We've devoured the Fruit of The Gods, and now we're high-tail on the run, its the sun that keeps us under the gun. (2x)
From beer to wine we plunder, pillaging dashboards of their loot, and often wondered where we'd get when the face we've met saw our souls again, we're blind, together; tethered through ankle, and through neck; and the bodies measured to no content when the blood that spilled flowed in our cities again.
We are not alone, We've devoured the Fruit of The Gods, and now we're high-tail on the run, its the sun that keeps us under the gun. (2x)
There's a town by the edge of the river where the sun always comes around, but the children are unfortunate to inherent their parents debt.
Every midnight and mid-morning the elders come to town, and collect a hundred gold coins to throw in the bayou well.
The score will settle and the skies as well; the crops will grow, and the iron will weld in the village, to form the shape of a carousel.
But the river ran dry, the river ran dry.
In the City of Babylon, where you reside.
Modular synths sparkle amidst piano, vibes, and other organic instruments stringing together constellations of sound. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 22, 2023