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Orphne

from Socha by Lihla

/

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    • Transparent with black smoke 12" vinyl in a matte jacket + anti-static sleeve
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lyrics

Some of us are born with caverns under our hearts.
A thuddering, thunderous shudder
that echoes through heart sighs.
And the beast of yesteryear unsettles and stretches,
purring and nibbling at the feet of our Times.
And we step, sneak, stick, slick
over crumbling pavements, precise and crisp.
Mouths mumbling,
tongues careering off umlaut and hiss and lisp.

And the ghostly numb phantoms all around
don’t frighten or deaden me to the quick.
Only porcelain skulls and vertebrae
that shiver for the memory of warm fingertips.

The Spirit of the Depths hearkens,
rumbling wailing in the dark.
The Spirit of the Times counters with logic, digits,
cold snip and sharp.
Title quick, skin perfect-slick, lights, camera action, intense.
From voices too loud and lives too crass,
the heart curls and coils in defence.

I line up my stones, and sing over bones,
siphon numb and blood rush quiet.
Drive stakes into the ground all around me,
belly clenched to riot.

This was never my hat, never my glove,
wake me up when it all makes sense.
Let me shelter in the cavern under my heart,
till this reality is rent.

The chips this little girl threw in the air,
never fall into an even stack.
The river twists, mind eye spasm,
Glitched, slip, tripped, don’t look back.

Onwards they said,
but don’t they know reality folds on itself?
The dimensions press against my eyelids,
urgent, childish and no help.
And we lurch along the road, cumbersome as the beast.
As the years have tried and tired her,
she cares for herself the least.

As the moments of “….” come clumsy and slow,
falling pinwheels of clarity spiral down perception’s slope.

Come, my modern day nymphs with your cavernous simplicity.
Weave time and space,
story and life with sensual synchronicity.

Let the world take off your silk and skin to grind against the mill.
The ancient echoes whisper warnings back, urgent dark and still.
Your song glimpsed, stolen, sampled and disrespected.
Your body, your temple, a playground for the lost,
searching and unprotected.

And yet our hair still grows long,
our song still rings in the air around.
And so we wait for all the forgotten to fall like dust into the ground.

credits

from Socha, released February 24, 2024

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A Strangely Isolated Place

N/A mbient

Visit our sub-label @ 9128live.bandcamp.com

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