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Afterword

from Lower Animal by Lesser Light

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lyrics

Still they stood
WIth bouqet of death in bloom
Our eyes upon the absence
Staring down the lives all mispent

As the coffin belt fills with our friends
Numbers grow of those
Of we don't play for passion
But play pretend

And on the bets we've called in
Still ill their probability
Left to work with weary hands
Weak yet, wrought with ability

Still ill, our fragility
In the cosmic sense of capability

Not vain the push for reformation
In the static age of misinformation
The only lights left to follow
Are the ones we hold
Throught the hollows

credits

from Lower Animal, released June 12, 2020

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all rights reserved

tags

about

Lesser Light image

Lesser Light Atco, New Jersey

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