Thumbing through the pages, fumbling for the words
I never even heard him
Brush aside the curtain, looking through the glass
He let in the darkness
Dressed in an endlessly opening robe
With light-eating sight in his eye holes
Holding his hands out, he offered a richly wrapped package
But under the folds
There was nothing there
I can still remember that unquiet night
In the cold November
And the dying embers, the pale candlelight
The pages burned to cinders
Wrapped in an endlessly opening image
His voice took the sound from my ears
My mind could not know him, my heart could know feel him
I reached out, but as he came near
There was nothing there
I woke in the morning with frost on my window
I knew he had stolen away
I looked through the pages, I looked to the heavens
I looked in the light of the day
But there was nothing there
Chugging, organ-laden motorik-psych from Spanish group Melange with lockstep rhythms and kaleidoscopic vocal harmonies. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 13, 2017