The Wishing Tomb. Pt. 1

This is a track that is slightly more dense than what the pop kids a usually used to. Here there are few rhymes to be found. It even struggled to be named.

Greville and the Tombstones fans are still waiting for the pool-party hit anthem of the summer. But those who adore Greville and the Tombstones know that this track is as close as one is going to be.

In any case, if Greville and the Tombstones was sound-tracking your summer pool party, then it would be awesome.

And the pool would be filled by tears.

And there would be no petting allowed, but long doleful stares and silent prayers to be noticed by those you have special affections for in the deep end.

Anyway, this is the sound of Greville and the Tombstone's summer.


This is:

The Wishing Tomb. Pt. 1

Really could have done with anyone getting out of anything alive.

 

Watch dust motes trickle on a sun shard stream, all is in vain.

Consider the jewel of a breath, consider the paltry matter a bauble.

Screw the tap but know congealing blood tumult laps in the darkness.

Disturbed coil of cobalt night unwinds into the settling blonde wheat field.

Spirit, fragile as water film tension, gently heaves top the twilight lake.

Time leaves Fate softly suffering and bubbling in its wake.

The distress is warm. Warm on the body.

Fresh shine washes on the back. On the front. Pressing from above.

 

There is never any comfort in endings: Endings are snapped continues.

 

I thought this was a lacquered stop, but it is perfectly permeable despondence.

I thought this was the bottom, but it is a Mezzanine.

Thunder barrel clouds cut, lightning bolts lash on the scene.

The immenseness outside this chamber creaks but remains unseen.

Wretched is this monument to my muse of Tragedy, sculpted by familiar hands, ruined to stone.

Still is this tomb which weathers against all under an electrocute sky: place of my grief.