My Kappa Roots - 11. The Dour Festival lyrics

The whole village is sleeping In some hushed lullaby From the faltered steps of dreaming Speechless sounds arise The crooked tide is restless And licks at her salted lips And purrs in the harbor Uncurls in the morning sun The sighed song of the living Is unveiled from every doorway And perched upon the breeze To be carried across the sea And is settled in every bough of every tree Amidst thеir bludgeoning rocks And the siren strеams And in the weathered stones of the graves Or wherever you shall lay Or wherever we shall lay Or wherever we shall lay And the old dancers The barge bodied ladies Who careen by and whisper I’ll never be young again And the drowned sailors Who sneer into their mugs In pining call for another round of vitriol (at this dour festival) And the moon's young daughters Faces painted neon white With flesh revealed Pant and crawl into the night And the clay cracked poets who’s liver spotted anecdotes Are bandied round and who are crushed by old desires (at this dour festival) And we young hunched pack rats (?) We laughed in the face of the stars Aware they were jealous of our youth And now we lay at the roadside Sun drenched and forgotten about At this dour festival (At this dour festival)