The water comes down
They flush to a sea
Where they get into boats
And they manage to flee
And go with the flow
As we wait like some bait
for a modern pa
to make a flaw with a law
and a new definition for “all”
Holding on
Occipital to the thumbs
Cover ears with the palms
Favorite song sung in a hum
By the velvet mesquite
Where the guards cannot see
someone sees the bright light of possibility
and when it moves
they yell “run”
Amá and apá sweat yet baby is cold
it shivers with the quivers of the 8 year old’s
concrete hold
Come out of the sun
Into the inside
A drop into the rising tide
The old won’t hold
Noé was the one who was their ideal
Forced to dream, dream until he’s real
now his touch and codes now intertwining,
the pulse silently refining
On both sides of the wall
So we see how it can fall
Cause our hands, well they move
with this electrical groove
And the dirt in our nails
becomes soil when it gets wet
from the tide
Heartfelt without being cloying and playful while delving below the surface, the lo-fi indie of Metagirl embraces chaos and contradiction. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 7, 2023