Tom: Eb major•
Verse 1
Ab
The spinning turning of the summer earth
has stretched and wound the air into
a tight blue band around its swollen girth.
Dizzy and relentless,
the suffocated streets wind on and toil,
and soils gasp their quick and tiny breaths,
parched dry tongues scrape over reptile lips,
and every word we speak steams
and crackles in the heat lizard still we
perch upon the stones merging carved and
curled this rough dry heat unfurls
Gm
Ab
pervades the flesh marrow that once waxed
Gm
Ab
now wanes the bones high up in the
sky, the one unblinking eye pours down its
slippery, butter -yellow drops,
melting oily fire on our backs.
Fingers without touch feel for relief,
and every move we make strains
as if about to break.
Something has to give.
you
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesAb Gm
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