Old Threat Tale by Kiran Leonard Lyrics

Pale light, old tome
A matte black dome
Waves of excess wash towards home
Rectified and clean, bathed in excess
And a wild beacon hung
To set your course to out there

A still life in an undisclosed room
The network loom
A plague of insects attending your wound
To grasp at a landscape
Plague of excess
A long prairie poem
To see with your own eyes clear

Is a map a grasped place
As visions are dimmed?
He disappeared as we touched—
“It was just to get away…”
—To your visage of smoke, your waves of excess
A quiet bedroom poem
To see with your own eyes clear
Is a map a pure space
Where follies are hemmed?
My lips held still as he choked
Was it to get away
As hellfire came running in where I was sleeping?
Plague of excess
A wide prairie tomb
All echoing desire