Lyrics
Empty pocket... take hold of the lamb's ear between your thumb and finger... all pilled and threadbare.
Reflects on poverty or lack, suggesting a tactile connection to a lamb's ear, worn and fragile.
I'll lead you down from the hip towards the falls...
The speaker guides someone down, possibly symbolizing a journey or descent.
Azalea-blushed, turned red so slow we couldn't remember
Describes a slow change in color, using azalea as a metaphor for a faded memory.
If it was ever pink at all.
Raises doubt about the original state of the memory, questioning if it was ever genuine.
Canary's throat is pink and ribbed with sailor's songs..,
Depicts the canary's throat as a metaphor for vulnerability, linked to sailor-related experiences.
Remembrances and cursing the black hole.
Recalls memories and expresses frustration or resentment towards an unknown situation.
Poor son of a bitch, couldn't even fly for the mist...
Sympathizes with someone who couldn't navigate challenges, possibly related to misty or unclear circumstances.
Can't remember the ocean but felt the pitch and roll in her chest.
Contrasts the inability to recall the ocean with a physical sensation tied to emotional turmoil.
This path, it tightens off.
Describes a narrowing path, possibly symbolizing life's constraints or difficulties.
I hear the ocean in it's depths...
Hears the ocean within, suggesting a connection to nature or a deeper understanding.
Past the flowstone and the icicle fence.
References geological formations, hinting at the passage of time and obstacles.
Cocksure sailor, you're polished gypsumand warm milk shore-leave-abandon and lashes heavy from the mist.
Depicts a confident sailor, juxtaposed with vulnerability and the mist's impact.
I'll lead you down..
Repeats the guiding motif, reinforcing the idea of leading someone through an experience.
Canary's song caught in her throat...
Highlights the canary's song trapped, symbolizing suppressed expression or emotion.
Closed off sharp and crystalline.
Describes closure and clarity, contrasting with the earlier sailor's confusion.
Her songs still hang in the tracery.
Suggests that despite closure, remnants of the canary's song persist in delicate patterns.
Poor son of a bitch, couldn't even fly for the mist....
Reiterates empathy for someone unable to navigate challenges, possibly tied to misty circumstances.
Color leached out so slow she couldn't remember if she was ever pink at all.
Expresses the slow fading of color, questioning the authenticity of the canary's pink hue.
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