Holy Bones from Birthmarks by Bambara
Tracklist
| 5. | Holy Bones | 3:28 |
Lyrics
An old man bent in half walks towards the train tracks with his head at his ankles. I watch his hair drag on the cracked concrete, catching trash at his feet—heart candy and pink rose petals. I should have known by the cold it was Valentine’s Day. This month’s for groundhogs and dying, my father would say. The man shuffles by. Hear him groan, hear him sigh, as the train rattles up and waits. Ribbons trail from his shoes like the ones you’d use to tie your hair in a halo braid.
Baby, deep in the heart of Rome there’s a sanctified crown of flowers that would be better blessed as your headdress.
I’d brand your name on my face if you asked me to. I’d kill the winter with my shadow so your dogwoods can bloom. Though it seems like I forgot, there’s this plan that I got to steal a present luminescent as you. Ain’t no sacred price too great, no law that I won’t break, to see you shine like a stained glass saint.
Baby, deep in the heart of Rome, there’s a sanctified crown of flowers that rests on holy bones encased in gold. But it would be better blessed as your headdress.
I’ll walk the coast till I crawl. Bathe in pool hall stalls. Steal for my meals. Feed the hounds at my heels. Float, unknown, into Rome in a cargo hold. And snatch the crown, on a moonless night, right off the skull of Saint Valentine.
Then I’ll smash his fucking head in.
Baby, I’d risk eternal fire to see your pretty head crowned in flowers. Don’t you cry for Saint Valentine. He won’t mind. No, he won’t mind. He’s been dead for so long, but we still got time. Elena please. Come on, baby, say you’re still mine.
