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Los Campesinos!
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Too Many Flesh Suppers
They found two dogs hung from electrical pylons,
by their hind legs just down from my road.
You slit their bellies open left the knife inside,
they'd ripped off our colours, we had nowhere to hide.
Do you feel the sweat drip?
Wake up when your hearts skips.
4am you're screaming, 'Mother, swear I am a good kid'.
I lean across to take the wheel,
whilst so far blisters form and heal,
compose a mental list of subtle ways to broach the point again.
Take my callous hand,sink these bloody fingers,
Too many flesh suppers,
Too many scents linger.
Take my callous hand,sink these bloody fingers,
Too many flesh suppers,
Too many scents linger.
You take the bed and I'll take the floor,
I'll block the draft that comes under the door.
You take the sheets and I'll wrap in clothes,
I overpack to keep out the cold.
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Take my callous hand,sink these bloody fingers,
Too many flesh suppers,
Too many scents linger.
Take my callous hand,sink these bloody fingers,
Too many flesh suppers,
Too many scents linger.
I plunge my hand deep like child scraping around jam jar,
and we'll be as teenagers reach below his lover's belt line.
The power that I felt, when you looked me in the eye,
And said 'I promise boy, I'll never let you see me cry'.
You don't pay back the debt you owe your parents for birth,
by giving Grandkids in return.
You watch them die.
Through your declining eyes.
My clandestine, broken cage,
we'll keep them secret, 'cause there's no other way.
You ripped off my flesh and my heart gripped the ribs like a prisoner.
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