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lyrics

"I suppose they'll say his last thoughts were of simple things,
Of April back at home, and the late sun on his wings;
Or that he murmured someone else's name
As earth reclaimed him sheathed in flame.
Oh God! Let's have no more of empty words,
Lip service ornamenting death!
The worms don't spare the hero;
Nor can children feed upon resounding praises of his deed.
'He died who loved to live,' they'll say,
'Unselfishly so we might have today!'
Like hell! He fought because he had to fight;
He died that's all. It was his unlucky night."
-Dennis McHarrie, "Luck"

A drifting in the ocean,
Leave me by my endless ways.
A drifting in the ocean,
Leave me by my endless days.
A pain to leave you by my side,
Blessed my insipid ways.
Of diatribe, Oh dialyzed,
These Tides inscribed inside this pill of cyanide.

You keep me from drifting away.

The air is bloomed,
And shattered yield,
And God has not awake.
The Commandments were a testament,
Brash and brooding from the gauze.
Desperate I was of piety,
At least in her naive mind.
For dietaries resembled needs.
Oh dear God please,
Let me tell her why.

You keep me from drifting away.

credits

from The Guest House: A Scrapped and Palpable Tragedy, released November 28, 2017

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about

Jacob Hutto Spring, Texas

Jacob Hutto is a Houston-based Singer-Songwriter, with experimental tendencies.

Most of Jacob's music can be found on iTunes, Spotify, Youtube, etc.

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