turbid · lurching · electrified
The day moves like a swollen river — capsizing and flooding and manhunts beneath the surface — while overhead, something enormous and luminous is launched into the dark, a giant leap forward against the pull of everything going under.
Telescope Over the Flood
Verse 1
We counted what the water took
before the morning had a name,
something overturned out past the rocks
where no one marked the current's claim.
We've been drawing borders with our hands,
voting down the longer road,
and somewhere in a canyon filling fast
fifteen voices lost their hold.
Chorus
But we launched something into the black tonight,
a giant leap, they said, a giant leap —
while the ground was wet with what we couldn't right
we sent our eyes beyond what we can keep.
We are turbid water and we are the launch,
we are the reckoning and the reach,
we carry both the flood and what it wants
and the telescope above the breach.
Verse 2
A woman danced until the music stopped,
a charge read out in a courtroom hall,
an island said no to the longer table
and a coup was caught before its fall.
We strike at launchers in the salt-dark sea,
we name our enemies by grid,
and somewhere in the wreckage someone wonders
if the thing we launched is worth what all this did.
Bridge
Still the mirror opens in the cold,
still the instruments align —
we've always aimed at something we can't hold
even when we're running out of time.
Awe and ruin on the same rotation,
the same blue Monday, the same sun —
we grieve the ones the river swallowed whole
and we watch for what the telescope's become.
Outro
We launched something into the black.
We counted what the water took.
We launched something — we keep looking back.
Instrumental Outro
How did it make you feel?
A new song arrives tomorrow.
Hear tomorrow's song →