Words and Music by Brian McCaskil

There's a Palm on the Other Side of My Hand


Nico

The range rifle from which it stood
Hides behind the flag
Whiskey stains on counter floors
while blood lay in the streets
Bastard backgrounds
and stoned wall skies
fall beyond the empty
canvas dripping
through the sewers
don't you think it's funny?
Can't you feel it's bigger that,
Can't you feel it coming?

Tradgey from dreams of war
Stagger through the alley's,
Drunken off power drinks,
while we lay damned and thirsty
They tell you of reasons
still you don't know why
that fathers and sons
of beautiful woman,
why they all must die?
Artist strains on mother boats,
Hell inside your hand,
pouring through the streets of blood,
racing rusted roads,
now can you tell that it's fiction,
and can't you feel whats coming?
something deeper and bigger than this,
can't you feel it falling?