I reached to touch her golden hair
The girl in the electric chair
So frail beneath my fingertips
I leaned & kissed her hateful lips
Oh, why can't you remember me
Jesus Christ, I was in your dreams last night
Oh, I was laying next to you, your sacred muse for your abuse... The canopy came down
I stooped to touch her pale remains
Her eyes they died like simple flames
Celestial rose, virgin soul, infant sores
An orison, a chorus from an orphan song
Oh, yes I do remember you
Oria, you were in my dreams last night
You, you were in the orphan choir
with fixed mortality, you were a gleaming spire
With cloven hoofs & burning hair
Childhood braids & twisted stare
The passion post, the holy ghost
with locks & chains & a list of names
Wandering lost by the easter cross
that's old & gray & clothed in moss
By Posey's grave in the labor fire,
I beheld the burning choir
I turned to leave her body there
Twas then I felt her golden hair
She raised her head, she looked at me
her body bucked in misery
Her eyes were red, her eyes sunk in
Then Oria awoke again.... Oria
A true hidden treasure of a song writer. This gent has been capturing songs in demo form on old tape recorders since the 80s. . . and he's still capturing his magic sounds in his secret basement. Damien Youth
Blood Relative is Publicist's latest post-punk salvo from the Forgive Yourself LP, steered by Zachary Lipez's unnerving baritone. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 17, 2015