You strong lunged new thing
all tangle haired thrashing
Built a house for my suffering
I have lived there a long time
But now the thick walls are crumbling
And the smoke is rising
Dolores my darling,
It is not love deciding
If I leave in the morning,
Through the soot I’ve been digging
for what’s left of your breath
I know it’s freezing in here
and the walls are still bare
But I can hear Dolores laughing on those white marble stairs
She wears winter clothes and says
“You must live in the world now, dear.
Those gates to heaven are fool’s gold. We know.”
And though our kings carry mirrors and holy pretence,
our machines have no fear of consequence
But I would settle for a single bed
I would settle for an accident
My mother’s baby teeth on this string around my neck
can be buried with the rest of it
and we’ll plant flowers where there once was only dirt.
Toronto rivals San Francisco as the North American capital of jangle pop as evidenced by this new record of sunny jams from the Motorists. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 16, 2024