I tread of winter's glass that ate the rose
while the rusted cabinet lids above were closed
with the melt beneath your atmosphere exposed.
The simple wolves attempt compare to trees.
Even Peter knew denial came in threes
of the pulchritude deserving more than these
Maybe I'm the wolf who never grew,
never learned to hunt, or never to pursue.
Or maybe there's no game like I was taught,
or the vile beast I thought
such for the fold.
Only warmth to hold
Her lips were still like cherries on the vine
and to my foretold disease I found were mine
for the aching rife within to taste wine.
The threes and fours were mists that came with blur.
Oh, the wicked hands which reach and head that burns
of the crepehanger deserving less than her.
Maybe there's no such thing as "deserve"
only gifts from skies adorned with grace like her.
Or maybe its encrypted to the core
to construe more than "adore,"
but I would go blind
just for the intertwined.
I tread on frigid ground into the rut
for the cabinet lids above were no longer shut.
Oh, a mind indulged in dreams is good for what?
Maybe she's a glimpse of whats to come
like a game I've never played, but somehow won.
Oh Dearest Someone, I feel the rust, please don't hide
in the moonlit corners of my mind
there in my bed.
Perhaps tonight we'll wed
The “grunge soul” artist draws from influences like Nina Simone, Lianne La Havas, and Kurt Cobian on her new project. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 30, 2023
A soundtrack to a film that is both historical and autobiographical, Yang’s music here finds graceful beauty in slowly unfolding melodies. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 4, 2023