It always hurts to see how Chris could evoke the spirit of song like this. The idea that our bodies are transceivers is so finely tiptoed about in the song both lyrically and musically that it corners me and makes me feel the radio signals from so far away.
Walking with the father, talking with the son.
Baby got vision, child, like a loaded gun.
She use my body like a carrion crow.
Doing our transmission thing on dust radio.
Baby call the number, nobody left in town.
Baby paint skulls and constellations on the ground.
Where she lay me gently, she lay me slow.
Somebody receiving up there on dust radio.
Walking with the spirit, talking with the spine.
Mama, sing: Open up yourself when worlds align.
My Secret Jesus, the good red road
On blood antenna dust radio.
Dust radio...
11 years ago
11 years ago
11 years ago
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