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Oblivion and Further Disaster

from Well by Uncle Woe

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lyrics

The dragging down of blackest clouds;
familiar shapes of olde misfortune,
here rendered by your guiltless guile and gall.
Half-handed visions and curious falls set the mood and set the scene.
Man, we set sail in buckets full of handsome holes.
Our pockets full of absent gold.
Our feinted hearts are empty.
Our tired eyes are closed.
Come wash with me in the evening tide, then weep and let it go.
Each night I feel her sweet song fail.
We protest and end, ere without breath we grow cold.
Always resist displacement.
Does it always come to this in the tales we are sold?
Do we not get to write our own wrongs?
Tumbling through widespread hazard crops,
here turned by the foulest of claws,
I can still hear her; sweet and frail.
Always resist displacement.
Somewhere between Oblivion and further disaster we live and die.
Into black glass caskets, we are prepared and it is night.
Those of better oppression will sew endless seed 'til starved through chronic supply.
Man, we set sail with bucketfuls of hands to hold.
Our pockets full of rancid gold.
Our swollen lands are empty.
Our eyes are painted closed.
New infection to feed the peasant need; how your guerrilla garden grows.
They demand a scarcity in healthy eyes as they laugh and look about.
They laugh and they laugh and they laugh and they laugh and look about.
They laugh and they laugh and they laugh and they laugh and fuck about.

credits

from Well, released December 20, 2023

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Uncle Woe Bancroft, Ontario

Everything is just awful.
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