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lyrics

Out on the dock of the black water,
bathed in the latest lunation,
a figure rows up a raft and invites me on home.
It seems like we glide on for days,
Islands of forest float by us,
The land becomes thicker,
it beckons me,
come to your fate...
In to the jungle of all that I hoped to be
one day
I make my way to the overgrown ruins of the city of if.
I walk to the obelisk at the center of town,
and pray to the forgotten ones
for something like bliss
the acceptance of loss.

I think that I'm ready to call this jungle my home,
I followed the pain and the ecstasy back to the source,
and made up a campfire to stare at the stars,
all that you got is the thing that you are,
the rough overgrowth of time over scars.
I think that I'm ready to call this jungle my home.

credits

from This Is Not The End Times I Was Promised, released September 18, 2020

license

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tags

about

Saroon Portland, Oregon

genre fluid friendly local extraterrestrial beaming mundane rainbows to your heart socket.

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