Surge With Power

legion dull blueberry in your face to company... Skill as per love in vice getting ready for the tour tonight, Milky Way across the get way seek through a tongue display I wrap myself in sheep leather, kick heavy snow over its own tough skin Snow, daylight, ghosts in my mouth Here my round Slovak face feels like whale meat on soapstone, I cannot touch myself without screaming With a fist of Slavic I toss old forgotten language to birds sleep in flight, in snaring ice they stuff their faces in their wings Hold to the wooden arms of bare oak I walk like this alone, old country boots munching the field This snow is the snow of Urals swarming upward, ashes & birds frozen solid into stars