The: Harry Harrison

Music:

Member Since: 08/06/2006
Band Website: "oiznelis id aidegart"
Band Members: My father told me only once Before he left me there “He conquers who endures,” So I was left to see...I endured the Island Of crazy, cracked-up cuckoo-clocks With rusted cranks and sprung-out springs And backward-spinning hands. The Island: Where no honest word was told. I choked on the King’s Cook’s drumstick I slept with Island whores I bled into Silver collection plates For the wise men of the Island. I never saw the Moon or Sun. “Father, they’re all phonies! Freaks and fiends and fools!”I endured the Island Of blundering, broke-up bellow-bells Rung by blind barbarians Heard by restless rams. The Island: Where no honest word was told. I killed small creatures for careless crows. I slept on the bays of battered bums. I spat in Golden goblets For the heathens of the Island. I didn’t believe in the Moon or Sun. “Good, God! Father, they’re grapplers! gluttons, ghouls and ghosts!”His voice came to me, weak and cold On a fleeting feather of memory, “She will come in through your eyelids and find you in your Dream. Then, you’ll find the Moon and Sun And hear an honest word, my son, Wherever you may be.” So, I was left to see.Though I’d never had a dream before, One happened in my sleep. She came with napping Lamb, A child clutched cozily to her chest, Naked, soft, and growing With each sleepy puff of breath.She: Walking, wordless, swept through ribbons; streams of grain. Me: Running, thoughtless, wrapped in ribbons; whips of wind. We two: We’re true, Meandering hand-in-hand Through clouds of Dream With heart of Lamb.We three: We’re one. Beaming Silver stripes through night Shines our sliver slice of Moon. Boasting Golden globes of light Grows our glowing grain of Sun.
Influences: We sit with our legs crossed like the resting wings of moths on an itchy plate of lawn under a mute, white herd of clouds as a flittery, dancing Lamb with a head of yellow fluff orbits us in yellow rings beaming sunpink face at me. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” (That’s the Lamby song she sings.)I turn to Motherdear. Our eyes behave like dueling moths, they spar but never meet. She’s pulling up a fist of grass. I’m playing with her feet. The sugary song of Lamb repeats, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Doo!” Now, the tickles of her fleshy fingers cross my face.Cautiously, I pry her off and gently dip her down and with a sweeping, swift swoop Up! I swing her right-side-up.Motherdear is staring. Our faces have aligned. (A slug of guilt slides down my throat. A twitch of fear pinches my eye.) Under fluttering moths of eyelash, her focus flicks to feet again. I take the Lamb aside. I breathe a wind of sighs. “I’m not your Daddy, Lambybreath.” I say it how I have to say it: rigid, stern and straight. A gray and somber wave rolls a veil over her face. “But don’t you worry, little Lamb, the Honest Word is great! We’re just three bloopy blobs of Love, spinning on a plate!” And all is pink and green again and all is white and blue. (Me and Lamb and Motherdear tie each other’s shoes.)
Sounds Like: I'll replace the rest of you with this one over here.
Record Label: Brazen Productions
Type of Label: Major