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I'm playing in BEBEBE tuning with a capo on the 4th fret. I've been trying to dream up new melodies, and found myself oddly constrained by standard tuning. I had fun with this one and I hope you enjoy it. Critiques are welcomed!
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Lyrics
They say you emerged from the cold fur of dawn,
Cloaked heavy in autumns now wilted and gone, and
The leaves clawed your tendons and called you away,
Though your cheekbones grew petals and begged you to stay –
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the heaving in your blood be overcome,
‘I’ll move the air through your lungs, tug the words from your tongue.’
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the crescent of your brows be laid to rest,
‘I’ll cast your bones to be blessed, wind them tight ‘round your chest…’
You’ll be born in the musk of chill rain,
You won’t pause where the bones of spring are lain,
And you will wrap the morning in a pale dress,
You won’t mine no mythology of loneliness.
You said, ‘these bursts of color rattle me,
Yeah, I won’t be the worn skin that you found,
And these winds won’t fail to scatter me
Into the rheumy pools and crannies of the ground.’
They say you emerged from the sweat of their lawns,
At the reins of horizons you sculpted from bronze.
The damp drew your steps to the crawl of the sea,
Your gossamer throat was laid bare by the breeze.
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the coins still in your eyes be cashed and paid,
‘I’ll will your sinews to braid, and your body won’t fade.’
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the chambers of your throat be ringed in rust,
‘I’ll free your insides from crust, turn your heart into dust…’
(turn your heart into dust)
Cloaked heavy in autumns now wilted and gone, and
The leaves clawed your tendons and called you away,
Though your cheekbones grew petals and begged you to stay –
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the heaving in your blood be overcome,
‘I’ll move the air through your lungs, tug the words from your tongue.’
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the crescent of your brows be laid to rest,
‘I’ll cast your bones to be blessed, wind them tight ‘round your chest…’
You’ll be born in the musk of chill rain,
You won’t pause where the bones of spring are lain,
And you will wrap the morning in a pale dress,
You won’t mine no mythology of loneliness.
You said, ‘these bursts of color rattle me,
Yeah, I won’t be the worn skin that you found,
And these winds won’t fail to scatter me
Into the rheumy pools and crannies of the ground.’
They say you emerged from the sweat of their lawns,
At the reins of horizons you sculpted from bronze.
The damp drew your steps to the crawl of the sea,
Your gossamer throat was laid bare by the breeze.
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the coins still in your eyes be cashed and paid,
‘I’ll will your sinews to braid, and your body won’t fade.’
‘And lest,’ she said, ‘the chambers of your throat be ringed in rust,
‘I’ll free your insides from crust, turn your heart into dust…’
(turn your heart into dust)
alackbass
Just reading your poetry is a joy. The tuning you're using does produce an interesting and pleasing sound. I really like the main guitar theme you've written.