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Reconstruction (Where the Sun Rises)

from All These People Are Me by Solareye

/

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lyrics

I wake up nothing but a pile of bones
Jigsaw puzzle spine, ribs like a xylophone
Skeletal scaffolding otherworldly and grey
Skinless finger spiders reacquaint ma skull with ma brain
I stretch ma ribs to cracking point to put my lungs in their cage
Ligaments creep and slowly cover ma frame
Along limbs, weeds grow and spread to function as veins
A ragged breath rasps and sets ma heart pumping again
Eyeballs hop intae sockets where they fuse with ma optic nerves
Sheet lightning strikes on grey matter as ma thoughts disperse
Skin over jawbone, stubble on face
Mouth open wide, I reattach ma tongue in its place
One by one I push teeth intae gums
Nails intae fingers as air bleeds into lungs
After retrieving ma organs from Canopic Jars, I regrow ma scars
All the while my head aches like a broken heart

Sorry if I'm being kind of oblique
But there’s a crack in ma skull that leaks punch lines in ma sleep
They trickle down ma face, drip, collect in a pool
And a form black shellac disc peppered with grooves
In the morning, the record player sucks it greedily in
Arm puts needle tae skin, inject, the machinery sings
It starts to sink in as the scenery swims
And if you’re all sitting comfortably then we can begin

This is a daily reconstruction
I put the pieces back together but don’t read the instructions
And sometimes there’s parts left over when I’m done
I put them in a box and try not to think of them much

I let ma brain breathe and people said embrace the darkness
But it eats away at me and sometimes I try ae starve it
Truth is, the windows to ma soul are black out blinds
I have no problem letting darkness in but seldom let it back outside
Brain cells full of demons in a flesh and bone prison
Driving this meat puppet while the verse is ghost written
I step outside to news headlines, faux wisdom
And a road sign spray-painted with the words ‘don’t listen’

So abstract

A street sweeper cleans up the mess left by George Street wankers in their glad rags
I’m allergic to sleazy suits worse than pollen
Feeling sullen as a moth flies out o’ ma dusty wallet
Is there a boarded-up council building on South Bridge? Yes there is
It was called the Advice Shop I guess they’ve none left to give
Chambers Street: the National Museum and people goin’ ‘ae court
The press are there when there’s something juicy tae report
Jesus folks out with leaflets to make the Devil go away
While a homeless lady drinking vodka the same her own way
Jakies on quarter mile up from Jawbone Walk
Next to Sainsburys and a boutique coffee shop
On Middle Meadow Walk I see Big Issue John
Can I interest you in a Big Isssuue? I keep ma headphones on
And don’t reply, thinking I’ll buy wan next time he spies me
As I walk past the bankers in the Meadows doing Tai-chi

credits

from All These People Are Me, released November 4, 2018

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about

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Solareye Edinburgh, UK

Dave Hook writes rhymes. Sometimes Dave Hook calls himself Solareye.
Sometimes he raps with Stanley Odd. Mostly he makes stuff rhyme.

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