Crumbling spires drip with rain
Crowned with nets of rusted grill
In the steepled city on the hill
Apes and angels roam narrow streets
They warm their icy hands over sewage steam
When the sun denies its beam
If constellations are cobblestone
Drowned in stormy sidewalk streams
If the stars deny our dreams
You and I should make a plan
Even if we give up the ghost
To heal whatever hurts the most
Father and son of flesh and blood
Live in a tower cleansed with rain
It runs from the spire to the drain
Apes and angels will spread their seed
The harvest will reap their tragedy
Not for our Holy Trinity Column
Not for our Holy Trinity Column
Our Holy Trinity Column
More folk-inflected confessionals on love, loss, and anxiety — plus a Kacey Musgraves cameo —from the Nashville indie pop auteur. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 11, 2024