1. |
Mariteragi
06:02
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Hey Mari it's me
what's left of your pastoral memory?
to finally see your world through an aerial beauty?
Hey Mari it's me
a voice coming impossibly from the past
a tome on the breeze
your calmness, your stoicism is slowing lilting me
Do you remember when we tracked 'The Tiger In The Window'?
The Last Resort felt totally palatial
I remember when we tracked 'The Tiger In The Window'
three takes of 'Your Element Will Make It Seem Natural'
but just one of 'The Cold Drank My Soul Away Into The Day'
How could you Love me so much?
You're a patient commissar
I think what we need is the cut of a lilting guitar
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2. |
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I've been up drinking all night again
all blissed out about the resilient rain
I was thinking about a dream last night and you were in it
and I dreamt of our resilient reign in our youth
take a trip to the upper shores
leave this place to the withered gaze
although that time is long past now I still agree with you
in certain ways
oh the sound of your hallowed drums
on my sentimental byways
I dreamt I was within your entangled terrain
and later on I heard Replacements singing Skyway
it's 4 am when I dial the phone
I hear the sound of the telephone's bray
it gives way to your voice's sweet delight
"through the night now sinking fast
show me something built to last"
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3. |
Factual Past
05:39
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In the midst of the winter the house is still in its slumber
but for the rain's soft patter
and the room is lowly lit
blue in the afternoon's emerging gloom
as it changes over.
Over and over I emerge from a fitful slumber.
My mind, it is rapt.
It is a billowing sail.
and as the winter planes I founder in the gales of my history.
oh brother, the grim caverns of memory
was it the constant pursuit of money?
or my ceaseless melancholy?
our fading esteem of a crystalline dream?
and I am wondering is my memory of the past
exactly the same as the factual past?
I got up and went outside
to take in some of the air out in our yard,
where in the summer
I'd watch the neighbor's dog twitching in a slumber
under the beach trees of our street,
also beautiful and green.
I took a walk down to my favorite shore
The wind whipped in my direction
I was trying to think of something to say at your wedding
love makes a family, a parlour guitar strummed pastorally
A cloud of thunder breaks the blue fog of my revelry
You in that tie dyed shirt, singing Waltz Of The Wind
The tears brined my skin
till the record needle wears and the song just sounds like mumbling.
On a beach, a Black Pot beach,
A shama thrush sang on a tree up above me
A shama thrush, ancient vespers sang to dawn's estuary
A shama thrush, so tiny that bird barely bent the twig of a tree
A shama thrush
And there is a thunderless golden light for the blue fog of my mind
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4. |
Eden Ahbez On Screen
06:34
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Eden Ahbez on screen
the cosmic drifter
precursor to the summer
of the grand paper tiger
Eden Ahbez on Screen
Eden Ahbez on screen
loses all sense of time
bucolic life lived
beneath the Hollywood sign
Eden Ahbez on screen
I still do not know the thrill of loneliness
But escape is at hand
for the traveling man
always bend to the woodwinds
Eden Ahbez on screen
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5. |
Feeling Faded
03:39
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I am a broken bell
I am a turning bell
I peel on and on
In love bested
but in jest I do not peel on and on
A house that floats, ain't no boat
The chemicals rushing our mind
and the early birds of morn
have turned these reverent nights
into a joke
I was feeling faded
by A Golden Kingdom
Expecting all my memories are fading
living in a funeral parlor
I was abducted by a bad situation
dead flowers in the kitchen shaking rhythms in my head
in a mental mis-creation
Turned my disintegration into song
in a divine joke
I was gone, I was feeling as gone
as a ghost in a puff of smoke
I was feeling faded
by A Golden Kingdom
Expecting all my memories are failing
all my memories are fading in the wind
"you're pissing in the wind"
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6. |
Town
06:55
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Mechanical objects
they get old and bust
they harbor a beautiful menace
in their rust
the bells of Yorkminster
clanging off kilter
I noticed their sound
then I noticed the blue of the foxgloves around you
There's a severed sound
to the battered bells
peeling on
I was always
an emotional kid
but the desire to sing
luxuriated in my bones
Your songs would inspire
every gilded clown
Now they're steeped in a menace
as I walk through this piss-ant town
(on my way to the old home)
There's dust on the wires
There's a cascade to the choir's unison
and I'm beginning to see the light
shaded through the mire of strife
Because it's the strife and not the ease
that bears the sweeter melody
You could try to grab it
But this town will disappear
it was just a figment
your fleeting frontier
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