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lyrics

The pressure rose daily in that heart of yours,
and the hot winds made it the perfect storm.
And your red bow flew off your head.
When you came to with your bloodshot knuckles,
spider webs red and wet dripped down your fingertips.
And you looked at that mosaic that you made
on that sunny summer day;
no clouds nor shade could hide that fresco of pain.
And your red bow flew off your head.
I had begged you not to go there.
I had hoped that you’d stay strong
and hold it up inside you for a little longer.
I thought you had my trust,
thought you’d hold on just a little bit more.
But I turned and you had both feet out the front door.
And you summoned all the darkness in that heart of yours;
localized and concentrated, precipitated liquid dread.
And you tore that red bow right off your head,
and I saw red blood pool in your hands.

credits

from Tulpa Infinitive, released February 15, 2019

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The Paris Buns Brooklyn, New York

The Paris Buns is Will Sisskind and his group of imaginary (and sometimes real) friends. Will has a blue guitar and plays folk rock. Thank you.

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