A song to listen to while the lavender spokes whistle against your arms on some fine, June day as your lover sleeps beside you, unaware of the gnats kissing their cheeks.

Lyrics:
Mmm, mmm,
(Gloria, Gloria, Gloria, Gloria)
Night is nuzzling, downy
(Gloria, Gloria,)
The lady's sleeping soundly
(with Eloria, Eloria)
Twitching, forehead frowny
(Gloria, Eloria)
Light is nuzzling down on (you)
(Eloria, Eloria)
My lady's sleeping soundly
Night is nuzzling down on you

Eloria, Eloria [June Demo]

There's a god in the cranberry bogs, you've found. Who else would turn the toads and frogs into a symphony?
-
Yes, the background vocals do have lyrics, but it was improvised muttering, so if you can tell what's being said, great... I can't.

Sleeping God [Instrumental]

a good song about bad compulsions. wrote this sucker in an hour and could not hold back to release it. think it works better in simplicity, anyway.

lyrics:

am i still good? am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i still good, am i still good?

please, make me good.

thirty-six
handwashes per day,
the thought hit head and then the foam.
skin so slick,
paper mâché, you'd
think i scrubbed down to the bone.

i'm not like that anymore.
i don't think...
... sometimes i still find myself by that sink, begging,

"am i still good? am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i still good, am i still good?
"please, make me good."

bedridden:
when he was mad,
i'd lock myself up in the attic,
all alone. crying,
"am i what he made of me? a body formed from selfish maladies?"

and he said he never meant it, he just needed me;
i shook his foul routine but i'm still turning in my sleep, praying,

"am i still good? am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i still good, am i still good?"

and it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, and it is good, and it is good.

Soap Prayers [August Demo]

my heart has leapt out of my chest, all to deliver this song to you, my valentine.

lyrics:
how is it the more i learn to loathe you,
i learn i still loved you more
—with all of this hate that’s weighing my heart down—
than you ever did, when I still thought you were pure?

true, a valentine has its smoothness and its edges,
but I never knew love to hold all these rough patches.

...valentine, stop being my tragedy
valentine, you’re ripping my heart from me...

how is it the more i learn to loathe you,
i learn i still loved you more
—with all of this hate that’s weighing my heart down—
than you ever did, when I still thought you were pure?
true, a warmblooded fool can flow and can ebb,
but i never knew love to hold all these distresses!

...valentine, stop being my tragedy
valentine, you’re ripping my heart from me...

O Valentine, My Tragedy [December Demo]

A song from the 2021 archives... hated it back when I wrote it, but after some cleaning I think she's ready to go out into the world!

Lyrics:

Bundles could never warm me up,
by God, even the sun won’t do;
I shiver asleep with dreams to be
a living pyre among the spruce.

I’ve heard word of a forest aflame, how a flare eats at lamb’s wool—
hair soaking thick with gasoline, I’ll hail this hearth my home.

My Momma met a doctor once,
who diagnosed me as a ghost,
‘cause no flame too harsh, nor glacier cold
could pierce my stiffened soul.
But, I could never fall in love,
this body, weakened, would
keel with fever strong and rough…
even if I could.

I’ve heard word of a forest aflame, how a flare eats at lamb’s wool—
hair soaking thick with gasoline, I’ll hail this hearth my home
(hail this hearth my home)

No, I’m no kindling, nor no coal,
but it’ll light me like wood.
And I’m no hunter, nor no hunt,
but it has caught me good.
No, I’m no lover, nor no love,
yet this, I’ve mourned and chewed…
And I’m no hunter, nor no hunt
but it has caught me good.

Living Pyre Among the Spruce [2021 Demo]

This song was written and produced completely in my dorm with a $20 mic. Forgive me for the oddities it causes. 

Background:
And Eve was told not to eat the fruit, because "she would surely die." Instead, she learned information that she was not given before—she gained a power in that sense; she became the apocalypse.  What other powers are women "forbidden" from, all in the name of holiness? Maybe we should take a bite of that apple, feel some warmth from that lit match, explore ourselves, explore each other. They are baptizing the candles of tomorrow: they are snuffing flames. Why? They're scared of the heat we might just bring to the table. Mwah-ha-ha...

I digress... lyrics!!:
baptiser, baptise her, rose water, soft daughter
rectify and sanctify her, hold a moth and let it flutter
Don’t forget to floralize, don’t vocalize the smoke in eyes
Don’t don’t don’t strike.
catchin’ on that distant lie she’s gotta be divine
death-defier hanging on a burning tether line
then line breaks, spine aches, coiled snake, broken rope and Joanie chokes
they hope her perfume’s stronger than the soul

They’ll put an apple in your hand but don’t you dare bite it
A match and a wick but don’t you dare light it
They say temptation be a sin, don’t look any more behind it
That’s just how it is, don’t you dare fight it
They’ll put an apple in your hand but don’t you dare bite it
A match and a wick but don’t you dare light it
Life’s only meant to live, don’t fill it with excitement
Abstain, restrain, forgive, yeah, that’s how he likes it

Wax-dripper, flame-kisser, lost-livered life giver
Crucify and waterlog the sinner mother, sinner daughter
She could take you by surprise   
Beware the July fire ides
She’s a locked and loaded inferno with underglow she cannot know so drown that power fore it overflows
Sorry man, it’s way to late, her choice is made, the apple’s ate, the candle starts to flicker in a wicked little divine state
Rising and rising, gently respiring

she can’t let the candle burn
She can’t let the candle burn
So they’ve gotta teach her so she knows how to learn
That she can’t let the candle burn

CANDLEBURN

CANDLEBURN (Dorm Demo)

just clearing out the archives...

LYRICS:
(blame the biteless bug, blame the biteless bug)

And he opened his hands,
those live-wire hands,
spits of bioluminescence peppering out.

Oh, did he cry, did he cry?
Or did he blame the husk of the firefly–
paper wings, a light so bright
too tempting for his human eyes?

And did he think that his spots
were glowing gifts from the gods? 
Or did he connect the dots?
His constellations scrape off…

Not like this, not like this,
jar me and let my light kiss
all that you cannot love,
darkness hugs, darkness hugs.

Oh, did he cry, did he cry?
Or did he blame the husk of the firefly–
paper wings, a light so bright
too tempting for his human eyes?

And did he open his mouth,
his bug-catcher mouth,
and claim the freckles on his skin were always his?
I bet he did,

Star-Freckled Hands [August Demo]

another quick piece, thrown out in basically one night before classes started back up. stubbornness and such. y'all love the more acoustic pieces so have fun

also FYI sang this entire song with a pill literally stuck and actively dissolving in my throat so bonus points for realism there (very painful would not recommend)

LYRICS:
Love: what a gentle drug
Tugs the body, cling to familiars,
Pull, no push.

Love: haunting like the moon
You strummed my guitar ‘till the strings fell out of tune
And every time I play it sounds like you

Every minute I’m away from you it gets
Easier, oh so easier,

Love: a worn-down torn-up glove
Hugs the fingers, at least where it can
Warm, not hot.

Hope: a pill stuck in my throat
Fear of the toke, my type of hope loves to be known
So stubborn I think I’ll choke

Every minute I’m away from you it gets
Easier, oh so easier,
And I mourn the mourning as it goes ‘cause
Momma raised no quitter
Let it be easier please just be easier

Love, Like a Sore Throat [January Demo]

A fox’s scream can eerily sound like a woman’s scream… why are there some who enjoy hunting them, then?
“Foxcry” explores the scary but real scenario that many feminine presenting folks face: others taking advantage of them, and finding pleasure in their pain. This song acts as a visceral callout to the “hunters” that revel in feminine suffering in a masturbatory way.

LYRICS:
He was a hunter boy-boy
Born with hunter arm-arms
Wringing geese necks
On his Papa’s farm-farm
He was a Mama’s boy-boy
He meant the woman no harm
Slinging pelts over his shoulder
But then he couldn’t shoot straight-straight
Something went wrong
He’d kill critters left and right but never pick ‘em up-up 
Hunter boy-boy to a hungry man-man 
Leaving Momma’s love leftover

You just love to see a woman suffer
When she cries you cup her face and say it’s to comfort
Come
As you slip your hands under your beltline
And use her tears to lubricate a good time
I can feel those eyes sinking into me
You hate it when I sing but you love it when I scream
I know why you shoot with your right hand free
Shoo, hunter boy, go skip your stones in a tree

And we foxes have a common phrase
If he can aim, he will shoot so scurry far away
But what about hunter boys, 
boys who play our game
Makin’ tiny cuts at fur until we’re not the same?

Well
We fair foxes learned to grit our teeth
If it’s screaming but not bleeding, then go back to sleep
In these woods, food is scarce, take what you keep
Be wary but don’t heed a hand that’s willing to feed 

You just love to see a woman suffer
When she cries you cup her face and say it’s to comfort
Come
As you slip your hands under your beltline
And use her tears to lubricate a good time
I can feel those eyes sinking into me
You hate it when I sing but you love it when I scream
I know why you shoot with your right hand free
Shoo, hunter boy, go skip your stones in a tree

There once was a hunter boy-boy
Taking part in hunter thing-things
Getting off to killing foxes ‘cause he liked their femme screams
And he’d say: it wasn’t my fault, fault, fault, was an archer’s paradox
Please still love me momma, momma, please still love me, momma
I didn’t mean to kill that fox

FOXCRY

FOXCRY (Dorm Demo)

Written and composed by: Rabbitology & "Pickel"
To my friends, to my city, and to the lyricist (Pickel) who wishes not to be credited but deserves it nonetheless...

LYRICS:
In the halflight, can you hear me calling all right, yeah

stickin’ are times in the 419
when the woods hung brown, pale but no sunshine
like  stickers on fruit we’d chew with nothing else to do

in her time before our prime,
a primed facade no we don’t mind
an abode for molding memories true 

oh, city the city, this city’s lined with something
the city, this city, she’s got something
city, the city, this city’s air is something
holy 

Calling lately, can you hear me, calling Maisie
Can hear me? Calling faintly—
A little weary, a little shaky, 
Can you blame me for going crazy!
Will the memories push on daisies?
Can you hear me, blurrin’ hazey
Can you hear me calling lately…

friendships last but scenes do pass
Soon meet again in the queen of glass
Refill what made us what we are

Souls together, worlds apart
Mind’s eye please remember our start
ground me in a realm now afar from here…

Calling lately, can you hear me, calling Maisie
Can hear me? Calling faintly—
A little weary, a little shaky, 
Can you blame me for going crazy!
Will the memories push on daisies?
Can you hear me, blurrin’ hazey
Can you hear me calling lately…

pourin’ wine on the flame of the 419
hard to understand how so sublime
how to ever reach that time, again?

Calling lately, can you hear me, calling Maisie
(Oh-i-o, Oh-i-o)
Can hear me? Calling faintly—
A little weary, a little shaky, 
Can you blame me for going crazy!
Will the memories push on daisies?
Can you hear me, blurrin’ hazey
Can you hear me calling lately…

419 [Dorm Demo] (ft. Pickel)

Lyrics:

I’m burning wick to fingertip with sage
from my shaky-shakin hands
Millie, what have you done to me,
my friend?

I’m tossin’ turnin’ in an open grave
coined-tongued with whatever I can save,
carrying hauntings of a brand-new age—
Millie, can’t you see I slide
planchettes with my wake?

Catch me walking with the ghosts again
Must be on that double dose, depends
Roman chamomile all down the throat, lift hands
In Michigan, the lakes all darken
Blackbirds flocking to and fro, sevens
Roots drag marsh over the floor, levelin’
Millie, can’t you stop them? You slow no omens
like exhaling, it never ends

I’m coughing up elderberry on the stage
like your sacrificial lamb
Millie, hypnotize pain away, I beg

I’m whisper-hissing notes on every slate
that I scribe and toss into the hungry waves
carrying itchings for a familiar ache
Millie, can’t you see I made a walking stick out of my stake?

Catch me walking with the ghosts again
Must be on that double dose, depends
Roman chamomile all down the throat, lift hands
In Michigan, the lakes all darken
Blackbirds flocking to and fro, sevens
Roots drag marsh over the floor, levelin’
Millie, can’t you stop them? You slow no omens
like exhaling, it never ends

Three redwing blackbirds outside my window
two fish heads at my door
What be this omen, I’ll never know
Millie, warm the kettle once more

Three redwing blackbirds outside my window
Two fish heads at my door
One kettle bubbling atop rusted stove but
Millie, warm the kettle once
Millie, warm the kettle once
Milly could you so please be 
a kind old dearie just for me
and warm the kettle’s tea once more?

Catch me walking with the ghosts again
Must be on that double dose, depends
Roman chamomile all down the throat, lift hands
In Michigan, the lakes all darken
Blackbirds flocking to and fro, sevens
Roots drag marsh over the floor, levelin’
Millie, can’t you stop them? You slow no omens
like exhaling, it never ends

Millie, Warm the Kettle

My man is a stagnant water,
a mud-your-linen, cacklin’ bogland
Waded in his iris to my knees
I bathed in his mouth overnight
We drank moonbeams from oily skies
Come dawn, he begged me, “Please, love, never leave”

Hmm, hmm
Hmm, hmm,

I have hands for building altars,
Lips to pray to reckless gods
Yeah, I was made to be a devotee
His mangroves held me ‘till died
My body’s relic left behind
To fossilize beneath the willow trees

Hmm, hmm,
Hmm, Hmm,

Thrashing like Ophelia in my featherdown coat
Won’t someone teach me to love without it swallowing me whole
If to be loved is to be changed, I’m only worsenin’
Mosquito larvae in my ribs
He only loves me when I rot with him

I’m my father’s stubborn daughter
And I am no gentle lover
Only crown I wear is loyalty
My man is a stagnant water,
a mud-your-linen, cacklin’ bogland
And I’m forever stuck his bog body

Hmm, hmm,
Hmm, hmm

The Bog Bodies

The Bog Bodies (Dorm Demo)

My babe, replaced me with a new girl I see
Her in
The mirror, not out of jealousy but rather similarity

Oh, does she know

That when he braids her hair she looks just like me, his last lady?
Or why the corn don't grow
In the garden, she'll dig and find teeth not seeds
'Cause that's where I sleep

She don't know
Why he's got so many old ghosts

My babe's got her pruning in the garden now, poppies
She scrapes the dirt from
The souls in her boots, the buried bodies
He never means it when he says he's sorry

When he finally blows
I pray she won't forgive easily like me, that she can gnash her teeth
So she can throw
What's left of him upon his pile of dirty laundry
As she wipes herself clean
After this new girl, there will be no more
Old ghosts

He taunts my spirit every day with his new, new girl
Does she know that he too was once my world?
Just as well-behaved with my lamb-like grace
Belly-up in the beast that I thought I could tame
I wanna raise the dead just to play with his head
It's a shame that he'd make her clean his mess up instead
I wanna set her free, and say she's not alone
When her peripherals make him a devil
But I'm just an old ghost

New Girl, Old Ghosts

The Bog Bodies (Acoustic Dorm Demo)

Butcheress

Preybirds (Watcher Song)

Living Ghost

Intro (Living Ghost)

Wildfire (Gone, Gone, Gone) / Death Song

Preybirds

Preybirds (The Watched Version)

Joanie

Living Ghost: Still Rising

Wolf House

Stranger

Who Shot the Bird Boy?

a lil bit folk, a lil bit cosmic, a lil bit whatnot... 
songs for the winged, moss-clad being that climbs through my window every blue moon and demands MUSIC.

Rabbitology

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