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From a Buick 666

from Coyote Parables by Reverend Moon

/

lyrics

He wakes in the night to the sound of grinding teeth
and rain falling on the rusted hood of a dead automobile
with a glove box full of knuckle bones

A breeze creeps through the window
like a thief with a taste for spider venom milked
in the cinnamon patch

He'd been dreaming of fish

No one's tasted fresh water in eight years
but the memory still sits on his tongue
like a guest who won't leave

He returns to sleep with the hope he won't wake
pulled up to his chin the the folds of the blanket
woven from strips of shredded prom dresses

But as always he wakes in the morning
the sun a little hotter, the dust a little drier
crabs crawl across his scorched retinas
he sees only graveyard crosses made of children's bones

He puts a cracked china cup to his lips and tastes blood

credits

from Coyote Parables, released October 11, 2016

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Reverend Moon Toronto, Ontario

REV. MOON (Jakob Rehlinger) heralds secular prophecies of the coming ruination.

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