Malaise she come when the river’s is low
and when the well runs dry
she always needs so much from me
I never ask her why
the look she give when she comes around
is empty as the sky
the kinda look make a dead man laugh
make a wristwatch ask the time
each day I grieve and yearn
for my primrose
malaise i don’t love her at all
she surely knows
that her mother treats a poet mean
until he writes good prose
but malaise seldom gives me peace
and her mother don’t wear clothes
you looked and it was snake eyes
I found my queen of spades
each night I shoot the moon
but our child is malaise
each morning is a eulogy
for all that I don’t know
I only talk in circles
there’s other shapes to go
someday when primrose fades
with that dying sun
I’ll find my old girl hemlock
give malaise the gun
give malaise the gun
give malaise the gun
Get dosed with stripped down hard rock that conceals a joyous heart beating beneath all those evil, relentless riffs. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 2, 2018