The Pulpit Tumble

by Lower Automation

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Well, my weary tongue laid down to rest at the pulpit just today.
I read the scripts and let the spirits flow 'til I ran out of words to say.
Four rings between the both of my hands, but I fear I'll have to pawn them all,
so tonight I got just one more chance to save face before the rooster crows.

Oh brother,
would you please lend me a hand?
My name is drying up quicker than the promised land.
Oh brother,
would you please lend me a hand?
And pull me up from this here side of the road so we can strike oil again.

Ten thousand mouths at my periphery.
I can't repair where all the voids meet.

The winds are coughing the sediment loose,
and I'm choking on opposing truths
under these blackened clouds
raised up from the ground,
an eternity tall.
I can't find no one at all.
With my arms stretched outright
I'm looking for hell or at least somewhere to hide.

These fields all covered in divorce;
This proximity's divorced.

I've lost my shepherd, but he hasn't been the same since he shaved.
I've heeded his every word.
I've swallowed all kinds of seeds, but nothing's grown since I
wondered and wandered
so far away.


released August 29, 2017
Engineered and Mixed by Derek Allen
Mastered by Collin Jordan


all rights reserved



Lower Automation Chicago, Illinois

Chicago math punk and noise

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