Give It Your Choir

Mark Pritchard, Bibio

Churning over what you said
Stuck in phrases, furrowed head
Tear in half the photograph
And pray to see the last of that

Feeling like you lost the words
A way that points to afterwards
You make it darker in your life
To hope to catch the faintest light

Give it your cries give it your choir
Fill it with fumes kill it with fire
Telephone rings terrified eyes
Settle for what-ifs settle for lies
Put it to bed give it some room
Wrap it in ribbons carve it a tomb
Speak of it highly speak of it often
Take it to heart and whisper it softly
Turning into what you read
Locking gazes with the dead
Turn the page with one lid closed
And pray to never know the prose

Feeling hurt by stroke and line
A verse that stole the sense divine
The wintry vapour on your sighs
The calling out within you dies?

Give it your cries give it your choir
Fill it with fumes kill it with fire
Telephone rings terrified eyes
Settle for what-ifs settle for lies
Put it to bed give it some room
Wrap it in ribbons carve it a tomb
Speak of it highly speak of it often
Take it to heart and whisper it softly

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