With the chance to have my take on these lyrics critiqued by the singer (I’m still not over how cool that is), how could I resist?
This is another great song by Bass Lions. It’s called “Funeral Shed,” and it’s off of their EP, More Than Islands:
Seven cousins all in a funeral shed
(One, two, three, four, five, six… seven)
Black and white, alive or dead
Are (we ?) happy (or are we sad ?)
Seven boys in a funeral shedIt was his smells of dry grass and gasoline
Wanna burn this thing down
But where would (your ?) spirit be
If you didn’t have (an old tin ?) backyard mausoleum?Who’s the ghost outside the door?
Face bleached white (as bones ?), he’s overexposed
I can just make out my father’s (— ?)
Like the ghost (and more of a kindred soul ?)It was his smells of dry grass and gasoline
Wanna burn this thing down
But where would (your ?) spirit be
If you didn’t have (an old tin ?) backyard mausoleum?Ba ba, ba ba da da da da…
All my brothers in the funeral shed, I must confess
I’ll watch my father build his final resting place
It was (—?) and (I was only six ?)
Have you seen your fathers build theirs?