Tekster: William Ryan Fritch. Sot Among Whispers.

Sot among whispers, casks of thickening kisses, fleshy fruits with a center of stone. neath the patina there lies shards of glisten. Our pulp lined gums taste no bitterness (be it from bile or silk) Open mouths are for kissing and chewing, but our imbricated teeth arent't meant for ruminating on such cuds. They say he thats born to be hanged will never drown, I will still tie myself to the mast as longs as the sirens keep singing and preachers keep preaching both swaying me to the rocks. pontus' nasal breath pins a song to my starch, but the tempests forfeit my sleeve. Serpents may dress smartly in plumes but those darting pigeon eyes burn like a pill in my throat or a coin in my hand. both to much to swallow. sot among whispers the helms ill-turned for our rudderless senses leave us clipped winged birds. thrown the bread of loam (hold no nutriment), and with salted eloquence feasting on the adulation of sychophants and draped in the tailor's garments of invisible thread. But how can one sleep till there made aware of their nakedness, the princes rash of silver sensed not the weight of its usurped crown if all has turned to smoke then only our nostrils can distinguish. (we were borne of vanilla, all since has seemed noxious) Sot among whispers, there is no harmony in these confounded tongues, but many melodies competing for space. Sot among whispers, as an abandoned coal what will become of my carbon? Sot among whispers, thick like wards of sick soldiers. sot among whispers, like bodies of expressionless lovers oppressive and petroleum. Sot among whispers, I can find no silence in my lion's arrogance, no worthiness in my pinchbeck forging. but i am warm of matted hair, sot among whispers

(Thanks to zach for these lyrics)