I thought I had been shot— 
Been shot a thousand times— 
It's not a shocking way to die 
In the fields this side of 
The enemy lines.

But I've fired my fair share of guns, 
And I know full well that bullets 
Don't just fall down from the sky— 
So I opened up my eyes.

I saw a flash of light— 
I saw it through the black—whoa! 
I saw the flooded track— 
I felt the hail upon my back—oh, 
I saw the start of the foggy maze— 
I couldn't see for several days— 
But then a sunbreak finally 
Burned away the haze.

(You know I'd kiss you if I could—ah, 
But my lips are made of wood, 
And it wouldn't do to splinter you 
In an unfamiliar neighborhood.)

I dodged a ball of flames 
Fueled by the dust the sun'd kicked up 
A stone's throw from the tonsil crypt 
I eschewed the beaten path 
On a SUP.

Tight-lipped and planing through 
The murky millrace surface— 
These flavescent leaves, 
Crispy teardrops shed from crying trees— 
Murmurations— 
"'Tis autumn?" 
"No, only fallout," 
Sighed beside 
A chemical breeze.

Oh, stratocumulus 
Oh, circumbendibus 
I saw and ceased to push 
I'd seen and heard too much 
My oar became a crutch 
I sculled into a reef 
It sawed the board in half 
I saw my former single fin 
I soldered lead and tin 
I sauntered out 
I saw interred my kith and kin

(You know I'd hold this post a while 
If I could only learn to smile 
But by the time I've earned the privilege 
Only grimaces will be in style.)

Surf Scoter on the pond 
Coyote on the fescue

Siroccos on the flesh 
Globe lightning to the rescue

An earthly comet rolling by 
A stoic guide toward a new clear era 
No shadows on the sterile mind 
No leks distract the prairie-chickens from their terror

I found a brand new clearing 
Next to the old new clearing 
A welcome change 
From the adjacent older new old clearing 
I didn't feel at peace but 
I didn't feel at war— 
A welcome change.

(You know, I went to your old home 
You know, the site of your new grave 
You know, I'd pay my last respects 
But the respects I have I'd better save.)

Stephan Nance - vocals, piano, synth
Milo Fultz - bass
Tim McLaughlin - trumpet
Merlin Showalter - drums, percussion
Arrangement - Adam Caswell, Milo Fultz, Stephan Nance, Merlin Showalter

Lead & Tin

I am a pigeon. I can’t press record to make music.

indie chamber pop (bardcore)
pronouns: they/them

Lead & Tin

Sparkbird