Ink

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Finch

The true finches are small to medium-sized passerine birds in the family Fringillidae. Finches have stout conical bills adapted for eating seeds and often have colourful plumage. They occupy a great range of habitats where they are usually resident and do not migrate. They have a worldwide distribution except for Australia and the polar regions. The family includes species known as siskins, canaries, redpolls, serins, grosbeaks and euphonias. Many birds in other families are also commonly called "finches". These groups include: the estrildid finches (Estrildidae) of the Old World tropics and Australia; some members of the Old World bunting family (Emberizidae) and the American sparrow family (Passerellidae); and the Darwin's finches of the Galapagos islands, … more »

Year:

2005

3:35

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I climb the mountain top, I saw the bottom drop.
I cling to drift wood, I swim in the deep world.

Words unspoken, seem so foreign.
Have you hear this one?

The hair on the back of your neck stands.
Another way out, another way out
The army ants have escaped.
The hair on the back of your neck stands up.
Ink runs into my cup, I sip epiphany.

Thing bite tarantula, taste of my symptoms.
Gasoline and a pistol, blood filling the bathtub.

Swollen eyelids, baffled by this.
Tell us what you see?

The hair on the back of your neck stands.
Another way out, another way out
The army ants have escaped.
The hair on the back of your neck stands up.
Ink runs into my cup, I sip epiphany.

I've bit my lip for the last time.
Fog lifts up, for the blind.
Free of body, free of mind.
I'll build my mold up, rest inside

Ink spills on paper, paper spells my blood.
Ink spills on paper, paper spells my blood.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up.
Ink runs into my cup, I sip epiphany.

The army ants have escaped

The hair on the back of your neck stands up.
Ink runs into my cup, I sip epiphany.

Ink spills on paper, paper spells my blood.
Ink spills on paper, paper spells my blood.

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