The Ruthless Hum of Dread

from the album "Dig Here Said the Angel"

Music by Daniel Amos, Words by T.S. Taylor
©2013 Shape of Air Music
I opened the wrong door
Got somewhat famous for
Getting all my wires crossed
I nod to give the impression
Iím clearly hearing the directions
Canít admit when I get lost
Fake like Iím up to speed
And I donít need the help to read
That blur of writing on the wall
But Iím not fooling anyone
Iím always tired and on the run
In my head, here it comes
Ruthless hum of dread

I try to listen again to your voice drowning in
My blood flowing hot as lead
As night fears slip in between hissing sheets and springs
And in the folds of my sibilant bed

Fists are pounding on the door
Cracks are forming on the floor
And the needleís banging red
Yeah guiltís a hardball fever pitched
Strikes the target, flips the switch
In my head, here it comes
Ruthless hum of dread

In a pauperís field of dreams
Iím walking in between open-mouthed graves
Anxious to be fed
And all my buried intentions are groaning for transition
In the raising of the dead
A skip, a flutter, a stop-and-start
A heart-ruined rhythm driven by the bass drum thump of meds
All the years, every mile
Another upturn on the dial
In my head, here it comes
Ruthless hum of dread

Let me go deep inside your safehouse love and light
Beyond the clang of the alarm
And imagine a long rest
Last kisses and a sweet death
Free to float above your arms
Into the company of angels
A final turning of the tables
My old flesh a misery shed
Forever young and light enough
To dance among
The stars above
My head, my head,
My head, my head