The Great Laketown by Matthew Milia
I once had me a good-looking, God-fearing
Girl from the hills in the dusk
But the sawdust and lake-rust from those days were nearing
An end, so the locals don’t trust us
But they are just locals, and locals are rude
The drifter knows more though his expression is crude
And I’m a little bit of both though, I’m not merely one
And everyone’s a local
Depending on where you’re from
The girls from the town walked up to my house one night
As the buried sun slowly went down
Their clothes were the shouting of pathos in moonlight
I felt shame and slowly looked down
Pleasure has a pretty face
Helplessness voices and salt-teary taste
But true pleasure has no eyes
And how could I see now?
Where would I be now?
Would I be free now without those eyes?
Us children were raised in hills that are landlocked
But we hear the sounds of out of view waves
The logs that were stacked against the house clanked and they knocked
But the wind is trying to behave
Innocence was lost on the most
And is now washed away like our burial coast
But not all the sand can leave you too soon
And what could I count on
If I can’t trust our dune?
They’re calling our lives from the North hidden waters
They’re calling our lives from the South, East, and West
They’re calling our lives out like half-broken daughters
When terror arrives to their sharp-bitten chest
This ain’t the only damned town I’ve been in
This ain’t the only lifetime I’ve run thin
The sky is a liar that I aim to steal
‘Cause I’m just a local
Thirsting for something real
Appears on Way Upstate and the Crippled Summer, Pt. 1