from by Cut Teeth



Tastemaker. Hold steady. Paint the skies with turpentine.
Spoons frozen. Applied to the eyes of gods.
You cast a rope of sand
Laud-mouth. Blind sermons mounted nightly in city streets.
Empire. Desk dynasty left to rust.
You spit into the fan
Costcutter. Why bother? The ship is sailing the sea of ink.
A martyr climbing mountains to plant a flag.
You cast a rope of sand
The river of commerce is flooding the banks of our
Fair culture with promises painted red. Why?
You spit into the fan

Do your time. Dry your eyes.
Victory is just beyond that rise.
Paint the town. Write it down.
It doesn’t count unless the whole sphere knows.

The magic here disappears into the pockets of the last to know.
Write and wrong. Ride along into the twilight with the last to know.
Just make mistakes and lay them in the laps of everyone below.
How could you be the last to know?


from Night Years, released October 28, 2014



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Cut Teeth Chicago, Illinois

A loud rock & roll band who plays loud rock & roll songs.

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