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A History of Violence (Prologue)

from Y by Holy '57

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lyrics

Well, she told me this story once:

Two men walking in a line,
One is reading a map and the other’s checking time,
Been out here for days, pushing through the undergrowth,
Tracking the forest floor, searching for an antidote.
Men of medicine, as the jungle opens up,
See out against the dusk a rising plume of smoke,
Set themselves a course to this new unknown abode,
With hope of food and water and finding shelter for themselves.

Two men walk into a town,
To stares of apprehension from those who’ve gathered round,
One leans in to the ear of the other,
And whispers, “they are different to us, brother…”

Two men wake at early dawn,
Taking specimens from the village they had found,
The village where they slept, the village where they ate,
The village with the people who had not invited them.
So the one man marks it on his map,
To notify himself where to bring the others back,
Then looks toward the other, who, knowing of the time,
Set off by himself to continue with their plight.

And by evening,
He is deep in the wilderness,
Where he spots a plant that he does not know,
From any book of science or his studies back home,
And for a closer glance,
He lights his lamp and leans in,
Only to be shocked by a hiss and drop his flame,
And retreat to the darkness.

One girl running in a line,
With ashes in her hair, tears streaming from her eyes,
She doesn’t need a map and she doesn’t need the time,
Been living among these lands since she was a little child.
So this young girl turns herself around,
To face up to the scene that has turned her life to hell,
She sees the plume of smoke on the blood horizon,
And shifting silhouettes of three, four, five men.

Mamaji: ...and it was there he had this, sort of, hanging

credits

from Y, released October 2, 2020
writ & perf // holy ‘57
mix & prod // holy '57
drums // arun dhanjal
trombone // matthew ludford-king
master // carl rosamond

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Holy '57 London, UK

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