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A Street Shark Named 'Desire'

from Sorta is the Best We're Doin by Cattle Drums

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lyrics

Yeah I’m feeling sick, sick of hiding and filing my face to fit flat on the black top so kids on bikes and scooters can make backwash. Wet cement and railroad tracks. Go ahead and pack your bags, we’re going underwater. Ransacked by hollow bones. I’ll float before I fly. Can you believe it? I’m the meanest fetus, eating your bird seed and feeding you flies. All I’ve got is nails, while you’ve got knives, but where's your hands? Make the maggots take a bath, take their pride and pry their chest open. I’m calling your coffin to tell her you’ll be coughing up your last breath and coming home soon. Saving up edges of tables for infants to fall on. Is that wrong? Yeah. Your fad's gonna burn. Fighting off bees, slowly leading the blind with eyes married to stingers. Lynch mobs want blood and these noose bearers will be frozen in their tracks, tied to poles, and used as dart boards upon their last breath. Whatever better keeps the heart from speaking out, from speaking up. Oh when solitude puts images of witches in my head, I caught buzzard after buzzard breaking bottles on my bed.

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from Sorta is the Best We're Doin, released February 1, 2016

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Cattle Drums Oneonta, New York

three white guys and the wrong kind of indian.

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