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The Nothing
by
Freelance Whales
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The nothing came in little drones A darkness sewn in folded quantum tourniquets The offering we made to jove Was not enough to keep him on the horizon When all the bridges wave and flex With bending pitch in fractals woven All your friends will call to us They're floating overhead Give us a tone Fill us with sound codes Let the honey bees ferment Glow into a meade inside the lions head Delicate species were meant The pirouette into the background with the dead When all the bridges wave and flex With bending pitch in fractals woven All your friends will call to us It's floating overhead And when the sonic waves are shot From cannons on a flatbed truck The atmosphere will shake and shout It's cracking over head Give us a tone Fill us with sound codes Grace us with deep floods Freeze up (and thaw) new perennials
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