At one point, these songs by Texas band Sundress were lit on fire. They were set aflame and they were left to die, but they were saved at the very last minute, the thought of them wasting completely to ash was inconceivable and horrible for someone. The flames were smothered and the songs were salvaged, but on them and in them, there are still the markings of an untamable fire. These songs have been doused with buckets and buckets of water. They have been draped with Indian blankets and they've been handed a cigarette that's half-finished, told that they can have what's left, they've been through enough as it is.
There is a heavy draft of the stink of house fire smoke invisibly billowing from them as they as they slump some, then sit up some when they're tired of slumping so much. They know they escaped and their hands are still shaking uncontrollably from the trauma. They'd like to erase it all. They'd like to go somewhere with a skylight, with a retractable roof, somewhere that's expansive, somewhere that's already had its bell rung and is on the road to recovery.
This is a hike up a mountain and this is taking all of the herbal and holistic medicines that they've been told will work like charms. This is feeling pretty damned sure that these warm days are going to chill themselves down quickly and then what's going to happen? We'll need that page of wands that everyone's talking about.