1. |
March 14 (the Lapwing)
02:27
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2. |
Little Bird
03:54
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Little bird with a golden key
Little bird, you fly faster than me
Little bird with a blue paintbrush
Little bird, it's no race, there's no rush
Little bird at my fingertips,
Ain't the sunlight carved up in strips?
Though you don't play the harp no more
Little bird, won't you pull the rug off the floor and dance?
It ain't a crime. Toss the village kids a dime. Sing a song to make them pray.
Just run. Make a scene. Point a mirror down the hall of gasoline.
Both will wash away.
Little bird with a golden key
Little bird, you're a mystery to me
With your blue Honduran scarf and your leather case,
Ain't you just a vision in this place?
Sitting chirping above my door,
Must I come out and scare you off once more?
When the lights are low and the sooth's been said,
Little bird, I know you'll crawl out of my bed and fly
To pretend that we're not the weak, that it's not the end of our Grecian holiday.
The sun turns the page, the lowing of the cows will set the stage,
Both will wash away.
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3. |
Fall
02:35
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Shadows by the doorway
Paintings on the wall
Flickers in the night sky
Petals watch them fall
Petals by the doorway
Shadows on the wall
Paintings in the night sky
Flickers watch them fall
Paintings by the doorway
Flicker on the wall
Petals in the night sky
Shadows watch them fall
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4. |
The House
03:22
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In my dreams there's a house
Set as wide as the plains
It's a simmering sight when I catch its dim light through the rain
Though its walls they stand tall
The wind cuts right through
It'll make still the tide but you have to decide what to do
It'll unspin the thread 'til the face of the meadow is blue
As the fog settled in
We were out on the swing
With a chill in the air as you whispered of terrible things
And the stories I told
They were some of them true
Our two paths did collide and we had to decide what to do
Can't unsay what I said 'til the breath of the meadow is blue
In my dreams there's a house
Set as wide as the plains
And my grandaddy said that the plans could be read in the grains
And it's empty and clean
Never dust on the loom
It springs up from the sight of the pale morning light in your room
All the leaves will glow red and the arms of the meadow will bloom
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5. |
The City
03:48
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Ash flakes float from the welkin's moat in a tune he wrote up on Broadway.
The gale awoken, a screen door broken, a vesper spoken at mid-day.
The pallid tawn of the old salon with its story drawn on the ceiling -- home's a cloak of the winter folk and there's always smoke lingering in the air, in the trees, in the prairies cut to the lees.
The queen bats her eyes, the burning lands will arise.
I learned to talk on the coal sidewalk where the doors don't lock and the string breaks. The river packed as the bridge was cracked, only the birds react, a lapwing makes the wind and the rain seem a sunset seen from a train.
They realize the burning air will arise.
Before the playhouse closed Mr. Lill composed and we all supposed that the wiretap would smell like a diving bell and the oneiric spell of the lyre would send a crackling sound across the toneless plane of the ground.
We still revise, the burning earth will arise.
He feels it sear on the coldest day of the year.
We still revise, the burning earth will arise.
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6. |
Sophia
03:58
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Sweet Sophia with a crooked smile
Put down the book and look at me awhile
You see creation from your chair
As though it weren't a yellow world out there
Come show me all your sheepskin shirts
I'll show you exactly where it hurts
St Augustine was a crooked man
With a snake tattoo and a sheepskin tan
He saw creation in a feather pen
As though in Jesus was a why or when
She's crying over all his shirts
He knows exactly why it hurts
The Holy Ghost is a fickle beast
It's played my guitar four times at least
From where it comes, can't say I know,
But when it leaves my cabin, it leaves me low
As though the last ones will be the first
In the place within me where it hurts
Sophia disappeared into the deep blue sky
The eagle don't know where and I don't know why
Sweet Sophia with your grin so deep
You haunt my songs, you haunt my sleep
Creation's just a crooked scheme
The world it's just a yellow dream
Your snakeskin savior, your threefold thirst
Will tell you exactly where it hurts
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7. |
Daedalus and Perdix
06:42
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Luke Gullickson Albuquerque, New Mexico
Musical maps and labyrinths
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