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Description
On Speaking Sweetly

(Kl Shyʼ Ḩlw) كل شيء حلو

Aching arms, rest your labors, reach not for the son anymore, do not
Grasp for that with which you have always held, moved, worked by

Rest

Why do you Shake? like a tempest has just torn through you
Like everything you've ever touched was a dream?
You are cold, you grasp the thin, melted air
Was there once something there? To hold against your aching rib?
Was there once something palpable? A surface to beat against?
The sand flows away, taking your foundations
Flowing swiftly away, the sand from that lush beach, on which
We were told not to build our house
True to that lesson, the rivers of Babylon carried it away
Corinth fell, Ephesus was left in dust, Athens lost its Socrates
All built on the sand where once, your ribs did not ache

Matlev, levmat, levmat

Now there is no surface to beat upon.
Thumbs flick quickly across the keys
Wiry limbo and flutterings of binary
Sweet nothings that dare not be somethings
Speaking in men's and angel's tongues
Does this excruciating limbo no good

I miss you
I miss you too
It's pathetic
[Page]
I cannot

I cannot play my sweet flutes,
That would make milkmaids dance
That would intoxicate the senses
Because you will not hear them
You hear a different god

Corlev, levcor, levcor

You are tired of beating relentlessly, so you rebuild Philomel's cage for her

Freedom is a sour thing, it gives me nothing to beat against

Description
On Speaking Sweetly

(Kl Shyʼ Ḩlw) كل شيء حلو

Aching arms, rest your labors, reach not for the son anymore, do not
Grasp for that with which you have always held, moved, worked by

Rest

Why do you Shake? like a tempest has just torn through you
Like everything you've ever touched was a dream?
You are cold, you grasp the thin, melted air
Was there once something there? To hold against your aching rib?
Was there once something palpable? A surface to beat against?
The sand flows away, taking your foundations
Flowing swiftly away, the sand from that lush beach, on which
We were told not to build our house
True to that lesson, the rivers of Babylon carried it away
Corinth fell, Ephesus was left in dust, Athens lost its Socrates
All built on the sand where once, your ribs did not ache

Matlev, levmat, levmat

Now there is no surface to beat upon.
Thumbs flick quickly across the keys
Wiry limbo and flutterings of binary
Sweet nothings that dare not be somethings
Speaking in men's and angel's tongues
Does this excruciating limbo no good

I miss you
I miss you too
It's pathetic
[Page]
I cannot

I cannot play my sweet flutes,
That would make milkmaids dance
That would intoxicate the senses
Because you will not hear them
You hear a different god

Corlev, levcor, levcor

You are tired of beating relentlessly, so you rebuild Philomel's cage for her

Freedom is a sour thing, it gives me nothing to beat against