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Easter Wings

from Bummer City's Best Lawn by La Chancla

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lyrics

I tried to tend the garden a few houses over
But that silly fence got in my way
Couldn't tend the garden of my lover
Repeat like a skip, like a skip, like a skip-every-day
Each plot of land bought with intent to thrive
Each spotted hand, a blight of mine
[Remembering only how it always slipped my mind]
Clipping shoots with sloppy haste
Poured the suds sod like a drunk in a haze
I'm hoping that I didn't waste
All the reasons, all the ways

Hey Adam, where are you?
Under a fig leaf, surely snug
Oh, I was naked, so I hid
I was shaken as you bid
me out from the trees and into my needs
Spreading rot like it was chicken feed
Oh the shears go click and I hope not to miss it
But severed here the fruit from the tree, and now You see
And I'll resist, it wasn't she, but me!

Tasted fruit, tar pitched as fun
(It led to)Wasted youth, scorched by the sun!
What grief abounds, what sorrows lend?
Where the wine is rich and sickness mends...


[Verse 2]
Out in the dessert for nearly 40 years...
Well it was more like 40 days!
Covered in the skin of the slain
Not without birth pangs but no longer blood stained
Bone of my bone and grass of my grass,
chained to the earth with ascending panache!
When the walls came tumbling down,
so to my wicker crown, and in death, I'm found:
Permit me then, with abled fleet,
To rise with larks in harmony,
Doubts along with surety, and sing this day, Thy Victories

I have nothing on my own
Lizard limping towards Your throne
Yet, crown bestowed with rings and robe
With sonship as our only tone

Gracious grasp, let me combine
Clinging still with my wounded plea
"For if I imp my wing on Thine
Affliction shall advance the flight in me"

Yielding as the "Conquered" One
Fruitful youth in the Eschaton!
Till the ground, the self must end
Toil? Sure; but now my friend

If affliction then is ours, such an anchoring in store!
"We are the trees whom shaking fastens more!"

credits

from Bummer City's Best Lawn, released March 5, 2019

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La Chancla Kansas City, Missouri

Out they came, from a pile of radioactive ooze, mutated through the ages to the tune of halcyon humming and the aural auras of intergalactic crickets, and rising now, instruments of cosmic tomfoolery in hand... La Chancla!

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