1. |
Gregarious Bird
06:57
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Gregarious bird am I, that alone cannot be.
Perched on cindered thorn, with feathers thinly worn.
On Vale of leaf and bark and chestnut brown.
Off coloured clouds hang low and breathe deep down.
Oh to take a leap and not know where you’ll land.
These feelings lie deep but they are still to hand.
Drawn soft in your skin and fingers and bones white.
Off coloured photos that leap off page at night.
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2. |
Checkout Line
08:14
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Street lamps will imitate while I continue to hesitate,
I cannot translate this to English.
Perpetual state of stillness fills us with this mind numbing illness.
And I cannot move, I cannot move.
You went away, I never changed.
I wrote you letters I never intend to send.
I once was rational, now I’m impulsive
I’m one of those people who buy junk food in the checkout line.
And I have to stop spending my time in this checkout line.
And I have to stop spending my time in this checkout line.
I stay quiet, I stay in my place.
Wrapped in warm blankets, your name written all over my face.
I see you beneath a grey woollen sky
I fell for you but I’m so damn shy.
Out of bed I fall and bounce off this once white wall,
Down the stairs I go. These days I only have time to walk slow.
Wait for the day when silence will stop
And conversation flows freely and boundaries will drop.
And I have to stop waiting for somebody else to talk.
And I have to stop waiting for somebody else to talk.
My feet are planted in this old Georgian house
When I try to speak to you the words never get past my mouth.
I lay on the steps with a page white blank face
You sat rolling a cigarette, a look of concentration on your face.
This place is haunted, this place makes you think.
All I ever wanted was to act without a thought.
I dreamt of movement, I dreamt of travelling.
I’d trace these routes across my skin pierced in red framed in porcelain.
I have to start learning to walk all over again.
I have to start learning to walk all over again.
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3. |
Wren
04:17
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She lives in a small house, on the outside of town.
On a little plot of farmland, it’s been years since it’s been ploughed.
Someone made her an offer, it didn’t go down too well.
They offered her double, she swore she’d never sell.
While sitting on her back porch, a wren flew down.
Perched on her husbands chair, long since empty now.
Early the next morning, she awoke to a strange thing.
That wren form the night before, had broken his little wing.
She picked him up into her arms, moving so gently
And in that moment she regrets, never having a family.
She mothered him back to good health, until came the day.
That little bird shook himself, and then he flew away.
Then he flew away, then he flew away, then he flew away.
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4. |
Ghost
06:04
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Sleep where she sleeps with suffering beauty untold.
Wait for the day that’ll never unfold.
Strike me as different, strike me as calm.
All I can hear is the sound of alarms.
The ghost in me trails around here every night.
There is a number hanging over your head.
It’s bound to fade if it remains unfed.
You do not yearn for the same thing.
Be careful where you leave your keys.
The ghost in me trails around here every night.
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5. |
Sleeping
04:18
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A sometimes sunken state I’m in, bleary eyed from the night.
And hoping through all these, all these doubts,
I don’t show.
Very much set in my ways, pacing on through the days.
And sleeping in my heart, my heart is her.
Still the same.
If I shared a bed with her, I’d hold her close all night,
And run my hands along her arms, naked legs and back.
Her soft white skin.
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6. |
Unfurl
06:17
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Unfurl yourself into the ground,
Of moss and dirt and earthly mound.
Dig with these fingers cut so clean.
Against the wood of roots and green.
Feel the clay cold upon your brow
Breathe deep, love’s shadow echoes even now.
Skin and bones won’t last too long.
The white of your teeth will soon be gone.
Bruised forearms and aching chest.
Settle your head and take your rest.
Eyes should not be open all the time.
Your day has come, so too will mine
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7. |
Road Maps
07:14
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I can’t read roadmaps,
But I know you read them like you’re reading a book.
I’ve been travelling across my arms
Chasing the image of a bird that moves much quicker than I.
Now I’m walking beside someone else’s feet,
Travelling up her arms instead of mine,
That’s where I spend most of my time.
I understand the scarf that clings to your neck,
As if it knows the danger of being alone.
Loneliness falls slowly and lingers long,
Descending on thoughts you wish were gone.
Now I’m not afraid of getting old,
I’m not counting the days,
I’m not wearing a watch on my arm.
We made it all the way to my front door
And fell asleep outside, your head on my shoulder.
In this town a rain soaked me to my skin
And I don’t think I’ll ever dry again.
You pretend you don’t know what to say,
I think you know,
But you’re just afraid.
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8. |
Low of your neck
04:55
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I wake in the dead gentle hours.
My kisses still on your face
You stir, I hold my breath,
Like a newborn baby.
Until you settle like a feather.
Walk my fingers from your shoulder down to your elbow,
Your stepping stone freckles.
Rewind my steps to the low of your neck,
Warmer than before.
I don’t think I ever loved you more.
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