prophet of the sound

take a bus ride to the sound tonight

tell your mother you have seen the light
tell your father you are wise enough

you have risen from the holy mud

take my right hand with a falling gaze

take my body to a resting place

tell the prophets i have met my lord

seen the face and bled for my reward

you can count on me when the sky is quiet

when the man above isn’t home for a while

i’ll be there when the angels hide

when their words run out i will prophesize

30 miles out into the salty salish sea

you will find your calling buried 10 to 20 layers deep

with every shovel full of mud and water you will sink

you will find another chain around your ankle in the drink

trust me my son

trust me my son

well 90 miles out into the dusty red and brown

you will find a book of ancient tongues just seven layers down

with every shovel full of sand your body will cry out

and i’ll remind you of the deep blue water you had cursed about

trust me my son

trust me my son