The Beggar

SwansSwans 

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Swans

Swans is an American post-punk band originally active from 1982 to 1997, led by singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Michael Gira. The band was one of the few groups to emerge from the early 1980s New York No Wave scene and stay intact into the next decade. Formed by Gira in 1982, Swans employed a shifting lineup of musicians until their dissolution in 1997. Besides Gira, the only other constant members were keyboardist/vocalist/songwriter Jarboe from 1984 to 1997, and semi-constant guitarist Norman Westberg. The band was noted for droning vocals and strange instrumentation. In 2010, Gira reactivated Swans without Jarboe. The reformed band has released two new studio albums: My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky in 2010, followed by The Seer in… more »

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I'm sick of chewing at your heels
I'm sick of licking up your spit
What if I keep the power I give you?
Will I then decide to live?

The mud is sucking like a womb
To pull my naked body in
Without your eyes upon my weakness
Will I forget where I begin?

I am the stranger in your mirror
I am a glove without a hand
I am a body gently spinning
Now deliquescing in the wind

I am an empty vessel ringing
In a stone house in the woods
I am the poem that was written
On the backside of your lids

I am the shithead unforgiven
Now crawling up your inner leg
I am an insect on your bedclothes
Searching for a place to beg

Now every word's a new beginning
When there's nothing left to give
What if I steal the child inside you?
Will I remember how to live?
When will I finally learn to live?
When do I finally get to live?

I stand before you polished, golden
I keep a globe of light within
My eyes eroded by derision
They know the purpose of the wind
In every soul there is a craven
Supplicating, begging shit

But my objection leads to freedom
My seed is growing and will live
How many people were forgotten
Along this road of broken limbs?
Upon this hill I'll build my tower
To survey their plowing in
I hear the whispering of angels
I see the dust is made of jewels
I swallow liquid from a river
Fed by the sewage of the cruel

My love is purified but reeking
Of your calumny endured
My feet are bruised and torn and leaking
But lead me toward a silver shore
Before I go there sing a prayer
Into my palms beneath your chin

I am the slaughter at your altar
That's where my will to live begins
That's where my need for you begins
My love for you will never end

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer