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Enough with the apulets and broken necks, walls like tacks and red and blacks. Permutations and combinations. Breaths only get me through the day in the most literal of terms, this skin and bone doesn’t have what it takes to learn. I thought I hadn’t the time to sing these words, I suppose I was wrong, that type of thinking’s absurd. And we’re both just Gatsby’s but nothing close to great, two parralel lines that share the same fate. And we’re all just building houses that we’ll never live in.
This seeing eye, this thinking hand, know that they are never wrong. Or at least by my words or by these so called lords. So take these anceastral steps back to the sea.
You’ve dug your own grave, now plan your escape. So many details have you thinking like a thief-in-the-law, scratching that rash of rememberance and leaving your skin raw. And this storm has my furrowed brow working overtime, that jesting cat on your shoulder assailing my meter and rhyme. But we never could turn the gears that turn the wheels. And we never noticed the odds and evens, the odds and ends...

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from Di Bravura​/​Mane Horse Split, released June 7, 2011

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Di Bravura Sacramento, California

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