Coal Miner’s Son

The Brian Jonestown Massacre – We Are The Niggers Of The World

The soot it clouds our eyes. What brothers could escaped three days before, and now the air runs stale. There’s life in this deepest of deeps. Life enough to kill the life in us. When Frederick collapsed the mountain noticed. It shone the type of shine we only saw on God’s day. Its heart pounded; it beat so strongly our ears would never forgive. Beat so strongly our blood got confused, seeped from beneath fingernails, sloshed this way and that and found freedom through nostrils, through eye sockets and ear canals.

Eventually, we lost sight of the echoes. Forgot how to tell whisper from yelp, whimper from growl. We lurched forward, exhausted our balances, threw our hard hats and cursed the virgin mother for damning us to vertigo at 70ft below the Earth’s surface.

We clawed and hammered at slabs of stone until our knuckles bled, until our tongues were wrung so dry they cut themselves against the stale and we realized the truth — we were all going to die down here, each and every one of us.

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