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Tell me about the blue
how it wounded you
right underneath your eye
like a bee sting
in the summer time
your father carried you away from the hive
under his arm
while you cried

And no I don’t think red looks good on you
you tried your anger on
but it always fit a little loose
oh child of the sky
if the blue it hurts too bad
then look for the green
and see it roll across the land

And tell me about the gold
how it made you old
it was just the setting sun
nut you were young enough
to believe in truth
a girl she stood very close to you
her clothes in her arms
too shy to move

And no I don’t see the turning of the leaves
I tried everything
I don’t know what you want from me
oh child of the sun
if the gold it cuts too deep
remember the good white moon
hanging over your black sleep

Hands up
catch what falls
I saw you cry full rosaries
and then you stopped

Tell me about the rose
how you watched it close
you tacked it on your wall
it dried out nice
it dried out small
you swore that you heard
somebody call
out your name
from down the hall


from gold house, released January 5, 2016



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Chelsey Weber-Smith Seattle, Washington

suburban sad sack outlaw country

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