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lyrics

You wrapped your face around my mind,
I sigh hello. Your t-shirt
dress, your fingers drizzling down my hip,
mishapen mouth, it rows your
boat. The words your breathe are sorry flowers,
ambrosia rain, those gardens
plump and savage floating through the air.
I cannot move. Your words,

Soft and plain, easy on the nose
bound by ropes- your eyes to mine.
Lost refrain sleeping in my clothes,
owlish pout, dream with me.

The world has spun us to the coast
and there we met, a goat and
sheep. I count the days but to be drowned.
Your shaven head and crushing
giggle like a kitten you command
as you are drawn by midnight
omens. Your homey wooden thighs,
I cannot move. Your words…

credits

from Tale of the Lovelorn Outlaw, released March 16, 2019

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Joey Molinaro Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Acoustic experimental black metal/ solo grind violinist Joey Molinaro’s “stomping and ferocious playing is inescapable,” (Foxy Digitalis).
Molinaro “executes the spirit and function of hardcore punk and Appalachian folk” (Foxy Digitalis) with “vocals [that] haunt, like a preternatural voice from beyond the pale” (Razorcake) and torrential boot-stomping.
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