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Lump of Silence

from Saints of Disaster by P. Everett

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    Comes in a sleeve with original cover art by Shawn P. Carney as well as a one of a kind drawing by P. Everett McPartland

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lyrics

The evening has come
And the darkness now covers
Like an itchy wool scarf round your neck.

It's scratching and burning
Like an angry priests sermon
That cuts you someplace you can't protect.

I'm trying to kill off
This thing in my mind that
Always comes out this time of night.

I pace the beige carpet
(It's the color of vomit)
And I'm losing my grip on what's right.

Nothing's right.

The hours go creeping
There no way I am sleeping
I can't have that dream one more time.

But if I leave the apartment
There's no telling just what
Kind of mishaps I will find.

I'm trying to cut off
The flood of the spill off
From some overfilled cup from my past.

I was trying to break even
But now I'm just breaking
Fuck it all here comes my best laugh:

HaHaHa.

It's four in the morning
The cabinets are snoring
They're creaking like some old man's bones.

As I stare at the ceiling
I'm struck by the feeling
That some nights I'm better off alone.

I'm trying to kill off
This thing in my mind that
Always comes out this time of night.

A lump of cold silence
Turns sound into violence
And makes every effort seem trite.

It's alright.

credits

from Saints of Disaster, released October 31, 2015

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P. Everett Hudson, New York

spaghetti western?
rigatoni northeast?
it's a fusilli world

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