1. |
Summer Harvest
01:46
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Summer harvest broken hearts
We are bruised fruit fallen from the same branch
I'll take winged loves hidden knife
Split us wide open
Scatter the seeds for the next life
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2. |
Reckoning
04:05
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I let you see behind the scenes,
to the unseen, to my deep sea,
each ugly unheard fragment of me.
Where do I end and you begin?
You've made a nest under my skin.
On this last day of reckoning,
should I let you back in?
If I let you back in,
will I just go on sleepwalking,
While all my friends do all the talking?
We both walk in the shadows,
we lie still in the dark,
we dance like fighting magnets,
pushed together, torn apart.
I pull your head to my chest
to hear my once-again,
once-again beating heart.
You know my bones,
you know my bones,
you know.
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3. |
Watercolour Fade
03:26
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See the little dog, see the little brown dog
Bounding through the long grass
Hidden by the trees, hidden by the hedgerows,
running from my deadlines at the dying of the year.
October smells like change, and woodsmoke,
and the dropping of the amber leaves.
The tones of the watercolour fade into one another.
The tones of the watercolour fade into one another.
October smells like change.
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4. |
Skipping Rope
03:58
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When I was a young girl,
I used to spend my whole time
skipping, skipping rope.
Now I'm a bit older,
I just get tangled in the
skipping, skipping rope.
How did I do it?
How did I know how to skip?
How did I do it?
How did I know how not to trip?
Slipping through time
Down undefined lines
Consequences and signs
pass my blinking eyes
But time's just a construct
of my mind, of my mind.
Time's just a construct
of my mind, and I don't want
to be defined.
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5. |
Copper Green Flame
02:25
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Briefly burns the copper green flame
Hard-won the knowledge of my own name
Days don't always work out as they seem
The way that things have been
is not the way they have to be.
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6. |
Contrary Motion
02:55
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Dip my brush into the ocean,
paint the colours of contrary motion.
From the source, let it be
between our souls, a moving sea.
Don't wanna give you terms and conditions
when my harbour's a few bricks short of a prison.
I taught you to dive, taught you to wade into the cold water
while you showed me that I was already the moon's dancing daughter.
Dip my brush into the ocean,
paint the colours of contrary motion.
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7. |
Softly Spoken Woman
05:13
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Softly spoken woman, speak softly to me
of the things that you have seen,
of the pieces you have been.
I saw you, I saw you, hiding within.
Caught a glimpse of you, caught a glimpse of you
just beneath my skin.
A reminder, a reminder...
That a softly spoken woman
speaks softly through me
Telling of her stories for those who
listen, listen, listen, listen.
The only one holding you back
is inside your head
The thoughts that you think, well,
in the tapestry, they are the thread.
And all that exists in this moment
is of your choosing.
Negative thoughts of self-doubt
to your soul are a bruising.
Because a softly spoken woman
speaks softly through you.
Mother, maiden, child
Warrior, priestess too.
Flowing like water, she changes her course.
Flowing like water, she changes her course.
Flowing like water, she changes her course.
Flowing like water, she changes her course.
I know a softly spoken woman
speaks softly through me.
Telling of her stories, for those who
listen, truly listen,
want to listen to me.
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8. |
Tongue in Twines
03:52
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I do not live as half of a double page spread.
I gave up that debtor's dream to dwell in an oil painting,
a brushstroke, a blue fleck.
Or I am a violin - would you have me played
to hear the ancient xylem sing?
Perhaps you would play me, with cursed hands
to hear an unsung spine.
You have a tongue in twines, like little snakes,
turning your teeth to stone and
freezing the dreaming words
in their wake. But,
if I am a violin,
finger-plucked and pliant,
command me with your unspent poetry
and I may bend and fire a flaming arrow at your will.
Or - I might not. For there are days
when every other sound is nothing
more to my evergreen ears than
the incessant self-pity of a car alarm.
And, on those days, I pull
paint-stained hands back to myself,
and stretch, and sigh
in my finest tuning.
On those days, I am content
to sing myself to the unseen spheres,
where songs yet sung,
in flickering echo caves,
as bats in sonic bloom,
await, with patient fate,
my twinned hands and ready tongue.
I am a seedling at the end of summer,
I am a seedling at the end of summer,
I am a seedling at the end.
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9. |
Moonbloom
05:30
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Moonbloom, moonbloom
Moonbloom, moonbloom
What is the phase written on your face?
What is the phase written on your face?
Too late, too late,
open the gate, open the gate
and let me walk around on this almost hallowed ground.
Moonbloom, moonbloom
Moonbloom, moonbloom
Meet on the hill
where the stars and the satellites kiss
where our breath becomes small and still
in this fleeting wilderness.
Here, beneath the moon,
each city nymph and urban beast
and the burning earth beneath
make this almost hallowed feast.
Can your light show me which way to turn?
Don't know how much longer this fire will burn
I'm questing for questions, surviving on crusts I don't earn
as each day gives me lessons I ought to learn.
Moonbloom, moonbloom
Moonbloom, moonbloom
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10. |
Solar System
03:49
|
|||
Take me to the swimming pool
where chlorine bites, and dapples lie
Open-eyed and hair astray,
gather together in my name
I've done this before.
I swim now for my own will
in a paint box, I dance.
Skim curls upon your skin
as smooth as the damp sky falling in,
a brave hand gathering.
I am a solar system
I am a planetary composition
Once blended with white light and grass stems,
I sit.
I am my own bleakness
the other side...
Notes kissing my useless hands
Do you see now?
Do you see now?
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11. |
Take Me Outside
03:13
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As the wind blows right through me,
I am already there.
Swirling twirling all around me,
I am so nearly there.
Endless days and endless nights
and endless days and endless nights,
silently sitting, endlessly, endlessly,
I am so nearly there.
As the sun shines right through me,
I am already there.
Continuously beating down,
I am so nearly there.
Endless days and endless nights
and endless days and endless nights,
silently sitting, endlessly, endlessly,
I am so nearly there.
(Endlessly, endlessly, endlessly)
The woods are a place for a woman alone
in her thoughts, in her mind,
in heart's beating to, needing to be alone
Take me outside I've been locked in a box,
a box made of bricks for too long.
Endless days and endless nights
Take me outside
I'm a woman alone
I am already there
Endless days and endless nights
Take me outside
I've been locked in a box
I am so nearly there.
Needing to be alone,
take me outside, take me outside.
As the wind blows right through me,
I am already there.
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12. |
Sorrow Spun
03:20
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I spun my sorrow as a spider's web
and the more that I struggled,
the more tangled I did get
and I've found no way out yet.
I swam my sorrow as an octopus;
when I pulled free of its tentacles,
black ink blinded my eyes
and the sea swallowed my cries.
I sang my sorrow as a violin
and it was as beautiful
as silver glistening
and I lay down listening.
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Hands of the Heron Bristol, UK
Alt-folk with all the harmonies.
New album 13 Moons OUT NOW: "A wondrous collection of
curious story-songs, choral singing and carefully layered instrumentation" (Joyzine) with "songwriting mastery that perfectly delivers reverberating folk-pop" (Tap The Feed)
... more
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