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Young Tongue
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Matriarch
We sailed along the southern shore
Dragging our nets collecting debt until they tore
Honest and wise the fire came
And in the storm god blessed the lord, he took our names
Her hands came upon me and pulled me into her chest—
My wife now clothed in finest dress with my love calling from here lips
The Matriarchs, the kings of these
Awaken the axe, await the fix
The commune the sorority
The smoke that makes us love to love
The sky is full of torture
And the trees are full of bodies
The rope that hangs us from there
Are the complements we slept with
Let us celebrate its coming
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