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lyrics

On the front steps is where I like to smoke. Killing time as the flagellants go by, singing praise for Jesus Christ's impossible, immutable pardon and mercy.

But there's never enough of it to go around. Not even hay for our ponies. The chimneysweeper does his rounds, barefoot as a newborn baby.

I see the dead look in your eyes every time you say "Fuck it all."

Don't know where I'm from. I don't know where you're going. But I woke up in the room where we fought and I threw out your clothing. If I loved you so bad in spring, then maybe I could have loved anything. Centuries ago...

credits

from The Travelling Plague Band, released May 25, 2020

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Kevin Holowach Edmonton, Alberta

Detours and delays. There are no alternatives.

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