/
1.
2.
04:27

credits

released December 14, 2010

tags

tags: punk Kitchener

license

all rights reserved

about

Mockingbird Wish Me Luck Kitchener, Ontario

contact / help

Contact Mockingbird Wish Me Luck

Track Name: American Homes
Make up the beds of American homes
and it's sad to see our marked up necks as misfiring God impulse
We made for charming marionettes when our bodies didn't feel cursed
Through lush green and hacked out fences, we fucked if those cameras worked

And I spent my autumn feeling sick
Cause my throat don't understand the things I can't digest

Her blouse frayed
To fight through stiff necks and try not to see her skin
As easy prey and it's consequences
If our bodies could keep our blood still
To hold our innocents in
Then we could rest through moonlight and wind chimes

We pass through our parents clothes resiting lullabies in snow globes
We've been through banquets of things to worship
Tried to turn her white sheets into waving surrender flags
But all the blood stains obscure the meaning

So navigate my body as I bend to your easy will
When the things that we lean against all feel
industrious and immoral

So navigate my body as I bend to your easy will
And wake up alone.
Track Name: Branches
Theres a wild beast howling
over the hills tonight.
The smell of foreign air
in familiar light.
And in the broken homes
your arms could never mend
lay the ghost of ages
nestled hard inside your bed.
I was always jealous of
all the time it'd spend.

And your hair seemed brighter
from a hopeless winter
Oh abandon that your body lends
all our myths uncovered.
How we'd never brave to face each other.

Oh the loneliness that made it's presence clear
in the threat that there's a better place than here.
Are our bodies left to wander in our lives?
Or be piled like branches, and set to light?
We'll leave those smokestack histories
to burn into the night.

And your hair seemed brighter
from a hopeless winter
Oh abandon that your body lends
all our myths uncovered.
How we'd never brave to face each other.

And our friends, how time has loved to cripple them.
And all the love sick songs before, I swore to rid of them.
And your hands were my branches.
And your hands were my branches.