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picking flowers for the dead

by A.S. Coomer

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1.
black flag shirt 03:40
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i got blood on my black flag shirt and i ain't headed home ya gotta know when to go ya gotta know when to grow ya gotta know when to throw it all away home is smoke on the breeze can i get a light? there ain't nothing for it but time there ain't nothing for it let go like a broken down dam a trickle becomes a flood becomes "goddamn!" the water ain't the same but the river keeps its name i'm a little too late for an early grave still i can't wait cos it's hard every day and it's hard every night, yeah i find solace in the things you do i find kindess in you stuck painting a brickyard view dreaming portraits of you ain't it true the sky ain't blue? the sea's a trickle of morning dew? the king's crooked crown fell right through and it glanced off my head i feel alive among the living dead i feel alive
2.
neon god 05:08
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picking flowers for the dead is it another love crime? the moon melts into a riot of poesies just another free fall you gotta pay for it later with something like your first born son the daughter was gifted the daughter was sold a fleet-footed hatred burns so cold walking past the cemetery my head hanging like a goddamn dog i got nothing for you, man got even less for myself these days i been spinning like a top fixing to blow mine where are all you kind ghosts? left with them friends of mine sliding through the cemetery noose swinging like a neon god i got nothing for you, kind souls slipping through to another kind ghost he was a friend of mine going where that dark don't shine he was a friend of mine going where that dark don't shine liminal spaces the space between the water is parted i'm painting the seas paint a little happy tree smear it with blood it's all going nowhere it's all the last flood walking past the cemetery my head hanging like a goddamn dog i got nothing for you, man got even less for myself these days i been spinning like a top fixing to blow mine where are all you kind ghosts? left with them friends of mine walking past the cemetery head hanging like a goddamn dog i got nothing for you, man got even less for myself these days i been spinning like a top fixing to blow mine where are all you kind ghosts? left with them friends of mine sliding through the cemetery noose hanging like a neon god i got nothing for you kind souls slipping through on to another kind ghost he was a friend of mine going where that dark don't shine he was a friend of mine going where that dark don't shine
3.
endless advertising 04:34
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guitars of the south get worn out early or lost in a barn muted songs slip right through faded slats smell of snow to come rusted strings cough dirt all us daisies pushing earth songs sound better from a lover's mouth we fold low love's a lost soul in the undertow and i can't swim the night is endless advertising television tunnel vision change the channel tell me how to live
4.
gleaming like dew 03:43
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i saw a murder of crows eating the dead poet's eyes i looked inside i saw through those holes in that pock marked sky so shallow i fell inside are you coming to save me? are you coming to take me home? are you coming to bury me? you can take all them coffin nails home like a demon i sprang through the perilous night things were getting just a little bit tight and then you opened your heart and i fell apart the sunshine found us gleaming like dew are you coming to save me? are you coming to take me home? are you coming to bury me? you can take those coffin nails home gleaming like dew are you coming to save me? are you coming to take me home? are you coming to bury me? you can take those coffin nails home
5.
old death knell 02:23
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spilling heart sparks into that endless dark night stretches sunlight fades i got blind hands and an armless clock we reach out and we get maimed i sound stupid when i open my mouth graveyard grinning stories to tell i sat spinning in a burning house my bell ringing that old death knell set it down this weight set it down set it down this weight set it down set it down this weight set it down
6.
hearts and moons 03:53
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hearts and moons hearts and moons burnt like rusted spoons hearts and moons broke spokes spinning on a stolen bicycle ditch bound each day a tick of the cooling engine the hours gravel pinging in the wheel well this new series of nights melts into a fever dream soured hours taste like a handful of dry swallowed pills hours as blue as blue can get life a blues song on a dented resonator the biscuit cone tinny & harsh the song set to swamp & soaked in gin no real chorus to speak of but a frail voiced refrain hearts and moons burnt like rusted spoons broke spokes spinning on a stolen bicycle ditch bound keep that spirt, kid that all said did they know i's a ghost we're all dead that's what the book said where have you gone? even the ghosts have departed slipped off with a shadow’s sly slight of hand i nosferatu up from uneasy slumber with a gliding creep shake off night sweats like the blood of foes & find cold water try & numb my swollen eyes stillness is collusion btw eye & brain a proverbial trick of the eye mind: the mastermind pulling strings behind the scenes where we forget everything is topsy-turvy our vision a projectionist’s compensating work a realtime editing of a lazy editor’s uneven sequences in this illusion of substance we are vibrating with the dance of atoms we are flitting dust motes in an expanding snow globe shaken by a restless child in a spinster’s abode hearts and moons burnt like rusted spoons hearts and moons broke spokes spinning on a stolen bicycle ditch bound keep that spirit, kid they all said did they know i's a ghost? we're all dead that's what the book said it's what it said i didn't ask for this can you please send help? i can't ask for help we didn't ask for this can you please send help? we can't ask for help

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picking flowers for the dead
an ep from a.s. coomer

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released April 20, 2024

all sounds & lyrics by a.s. coomer
2024 © a.s. coomer

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A.S. Coomer Elizabethtown, Kentucky

Folk. Americana. Narratives. Ambient Instrumentals. Aubades. Nocturnes. Poetry. Rock & roll. Psychedelia. Alt- Country.

Five of my tunes were published by The Museum of Americana.

Rural Eminence Volumes One, Two, & Three are instrumental reflections of the rural life.

Songs for Leaving is a poetry/music fusion.

I've got tons of projects cooking.

Follow along for more tasty sounds. ... more

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