Ty says…

As much of an angry, venting/ranting song as this may appear, it is, at its heart, a song about reclaiming one’s own power. Instead of accepting undeserved blame or suffering through someone else’s unprovoked temper tantrum, it’s okay to stand up and say that’s enough, dammit. (It’s also about how much of an instinctual violent reaction one can develop when all one ever does is sit there and take the abuse for years and years.)

Click here to listen.

lyrics

your posturing, your spitting, talking,
flail your hands around
means nothing when i tell you
i’ll see you soon be drowned
your look of shock, your flapping tongue
just waiting to be cut
it’d be easy, extend a hand
and punch your damn teeth shut

oh, hunt you, beat you, cut you, kill you
all in self-defense
you seem to think i won’t get angry
get some fucking sense
you’ve come to me, you’ve bargained hard
to make yourself a threat
and if you think i won’t respond
you’re gonna lose that bet

your breath is foul, you’re in my face
i’m ready for some blood
don’t give me such a startled stare
when you choke on a flood
your misdirected aggression
will cue my vitriol
and even if you didn’t mean it
your fists are deceitful

oh, hunt you, beat you, cut you, kill you
all in self-defense
you seem to think i won’t get angry
get some fucking sense
you’ve come to me, you’ve bargained hard
to make yourself a threat
and if you think i won’t respond
you’re gonna lose that bet

if you’re not catching a clue yet
i’d suggest backing off
before i make out of your face
a bloody hollow trough
you’d be surprised, but really i
do not enjoy this game
and if you leave, i’ll be relieved
to douse this wicked flame

Ty says…

This was written and tuned years ago, quite literally, when I was going through a period of my life with my soul broken up. Pieces of me had been surrendered, taken, or simply lost over a few hard years of my life, so I asked a dear friend of mine to help gather me back together. And so she did.

Click here to listen.

lyrics

there is a black jaguar woman
who is hunting through jungle and stream
gathering to her the pieces
that i’ve lost of my soul

there is a black jaguar woman
who is weaving the threads of my flesh
muscle and bone and skin and old blood
that’s been running through rivers too red

there is a black jaguar woman
who is giving me life now i’m whole
passing the wind into me
so that i might breathe again