[Intro: Heavy, swung 6/8 acoustic guitar strumming enters, joined immediately by a deep, growling, overdriven bass drone; a mandolin plays a glittering, rapid, circular pattern high in the register] [Verse 1: Cavernous tom-drum enters on the downbeat; vocal is dry, sharp, and rhythmic] Twelve-sided columns Porous and grey The iron alignment of the day Green needles scraping the copper skin Where the weight of the forest begins Circle the perimeter (Circle the perimeter) Measuring the shadow before it falls [Refrain: Drums stop for a single beat; the overdriven bass holds a vibrating low frequency; the vocal is delivered like a dark decree] There's a frequency below the human tongue Plucked on the ridges where the sky was hung Plucked on the ridges where the sky was hung [Verse 2: Swung drums return with a heavy, driving force; mandolin becomes more frantic and dissonant] Northern migration The rattlesnake coil Spill the cold water on the soil Six hundred feet of vertical wire Sucking the grease from the campfire Turn the compass key (Turn the compass key) Waiting on the solstice to set us free [Instrumental Break 1: A heavy, hypnotic 12-bar jam; the distorted bass and acoustic 12-string lock into a crushing, cyclical groove while the mandolin screams like wind through high basalt columns] [Verse 3: The instrumentation thins out to just the heavy, pulsing tom-drum and a low, feedback-tinged bass note; vocal drops to a strained, rhythmic chant] Basalt bone The orbit aligns The magnetic friction of the pines No signposts, no written code Just the pressure on the county road Stand at the altar (Stand at the altar) Feeling the marrow begin to shake [Chorus: Full sonic explosion; the 12-string, distorted bass, and swung drums swell to maximum volume; backing vocals join in a soaring, wordless, primal chant] Pluck the string, let the frequency ride (Ah-ah-ah) The sky is coming down on the other side (Ah-ah-ah) There's a frequency below the human tongue Plucked on the ridges where the sky was hung (Where the sky was hung) Plucked on the ridges where the sky was hung (Where the sky was hung) [Outro: The drums and acoustic guitars stop abruptly on a heavy beat; the distorted bass holds a low, vibrating hum that slowly turns into high-frequency cabinet feedback, ringing out like an unanswered telephone in an empty canyon]
