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Plucked Wings

from The Devil's Workshop by Modus Opera & Eye

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about

This song was written on the first anniversary of my mother’s death, with the world in stasis and on stand-by. We wait to die, to live, to discover who we really are. This is a song about the fall. About the willful transformation from what is expected of us in life and what is necessary to not only survive, but to live. The wings we are born with can be as much a blessing as a curse. We’re caged in the caste we’re born in, striving for better, but killing ourselves just enough to stay alive. In our cages we over-preen, over-analyze and pick at scars until skin is laid bare. We pluck the feathers from those wings to shed the expectations of a life without sin, to welcome the darkness, to welcome in the temptation and the bounty of life that the Devil offers here on earth. These choices can lead to pain and loss and regret, but also to truth. The truth about who we are and what we have lost.
We shout the names in the street to remember that there is inequity, that they did not die in vain.
We whisper out the names of those we seek on the other side, and spend a lifetime listening for an answer.

lyrics

Skin like a rattlesnake
Red as the dawn
Your spirit needs a resting place
Like a flea needs a dog
You don’t know where you’re going to
Until you know which side you’re on
The gates are closed in paradise
Better hitchhike back on home
home

Chorus:
Trade reason for rhyme
Pay up later on the other side
I keep on pulling
the feathers from these wings
while Lucifer sings.

Tell the queen, the pawn’s to blame
For the folly of the king
Cut a piece of the cake we made
on the edge of a Guillotine
take your mask off and set it down
listen to the rain
hold me close until the weeds are drown
as we whisper out the
oh the names

Chorus

credits

from The Devil's Workshop, released December 18, 2020
Modus Opera: Piano, Organ, Electric Guitar, Bass, Drums, Megaphone, Vocals

Sissy Vitreous: Vocals

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Modus Opera & Eye Vallejo, California

The soundtrack for the foolish Borracho looking for salvation. Finding it in a cup, or on the road, or maybe behind the sofa.

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