A Private Understanding - Protomartyr

Not by my own hand

Automatic writing by phantom limb

Not with my own voice

Pleurisy made to stand on two legs

That’s how I bar my door

In this age of blasting trumpets

Paradise for fools

Infinite wrath

In the lowest deep a lower depth

I don’t want to hear those vile trumpets anymore

Conscience wakes despair

The night is an accumulation of dark air

The scholar will be forever poor

Gross gold runs headlong to boor

I don’t want to hear those vile trumpets anymore

Call me «Heraclitus The Obscure»

Constantly weeping because the river doesn’t move

It doesn’t flow

It’s been leaded by snider men to make a profit from the poor

I don’t want to hear those vile trumpets anymore

People live with a private understanding

Sorrow’s the wind blowing through

Truth is hiding in the wire

Elvis outside of Flagstaff

Driving a camper van

Looking for meaning in a cloud mass

Sees the face of Joseph Stalin

And is disheartened

Then the wind changed the cloud into his smiling Lord

And he was affected profoundly

But he could never describe the feeling

He passed away on the bathroom floor

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you

She’s just trying to reach you