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Children of Hum

by Stone Breath

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    black and white full size print (image size approximately 8"x13") of the art used for the cover of "Children of Hum." Printed on heavy matte stock paper to look as close to the original pen and ink as possible. Signed and numbered by the artist (and Stone Breath founding member), Timothy.

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    Get all 40 Stone Breath releases available on Bandcamp and save 15%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Greys and Orphans, Tam Lin, The Witch Cloud, The Witch Mother, The Sly Bold Reynardine, PANDEMONIUM, Death is the Mother of Us All, Belsnickel, and 32 more. , and , .

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Every word I sing tonight Is fished from the mouth of a corpse. Every note my fingers my sound Is pulled from the spine of the passed. Every sight beneath the stars Is peeled from the eyes of the dead. And these like trees, with roots so deep And me just a seed on the wind. Their lips were wet with berries picked And dried by the sun and the wind. Their tongues did sing to harp and drum And told long tales under the moon. They looked upon the ancient hills And wrote in long forgotten scripts. Seeing long with hunter’s eyes And wetting graves with potent tears. Ears that heard the secret charms And the songs of missing birds. To memory put the ballads long And wisdom now lost to time. Their eyes to see the wrath of gods. Their ears to hear the angels’ song. Their moths to sing the praise of all. Now dark. Now silent. Now unspoken.
This path it is not straight, Though very narrow is its way. My feet, they are not twined To this long and lonely street. Step by step; The Winding Way; Through broken heart To break of day; Through soaking rain And burning sun; Follow the hum. No roads bind my legs. No turning gears hold my time. I stop at every well, Sing a song then start again. I walk a scarecrow’s wake Through haunted field and holy wood. My hands, they are not nailed Onto some ancient tree. I’ll pray where I may. I will write my own hymns. I am not yet hanged. I will carve my own runes.
Here I stand amidst the trees, Looking back on where I tread, Among the living and the dead. Let me tell you what I see: There is a silver, knotted thread That twists at times around the next But never stops its lonesome trek ‘Pon every path that I have fled. Always all one, All ways alone, By aged flesh or cracking bone. By praying tree or living stone Always all one, All ways alone. Every step, be cursed or blessed; Be dried to dust by sun’s bright rain Or wet to mud by tears and rain; Every step was with longing dressed. Seeking ever and oft’ in vain For the temple where I could fall And hear, at last, my Mother’s call, And fell the succour for my pain. Where I stand and where I’ve gone, The wind cold comfort in my search. Always in life, in death, in birth: Always all one, all ways alone.
Where is the wound from which you bleed? Red is the road that brings you to me. Bright are the lilies in your wake. Quietly walking like some lost saint. And lo’ the blood falls at your feet, And colors red the waving wheat, And runs upon the swaying rye, There is a blood moon in the sky. And now we walk by Her red light. Two wandering pilgrims in the night. Two Fisher Kings without kingdoms, The stars our only diadems. Brother of stars and winding ways; Brother of song through night and day; Brother by time; by drought or flood; Brother by deeper root than blood.
Hail to the howling wind; To the rushing rain; To the flowing stream; That carries the stars within each tiny grain. Hail to the impure blood; From the twisted roots Through the purest hearts That tasted the juice of Babel’s forgotten fruit. Hail to the snowy peaks; To the hammered storm; To the single eye That sees the dead sow and the living go to war. Hail to the desert sun; To the swirling sand; To the lonely men Who write divine words all with a mortal hand. Hail to the calling crows With their songs of life Made from words of death And hail to the ghosts who dance for days on end. Alice is a long time gone my friend. Alice is a long time gone. Oz is very far away my friend. Alice is a long time gone. We shall have no home under the sun. Alice is a long time gone. Until we braid our hair as one my friend. Alice is a long time gone. Drink under the moon with me my friend. Alice is a long time gone. Listen to the owl so far away. Alice is a long time gone.
At the Well 02:24
The feather from a wing has fallen, Now stuck among the grass. This leaf from a barren branch, Now blows upon the wind. And a white hair from my head Now floats upon the sea. And all my fathers look on my face And say they never knew me. Come unto the well with me, I take my drink from there. Wade into the water with me, You will find me there. This spider from its web was taken, Now crawls upon the ground. This fish from the river leapt, Now writhes upon the shore. And I sing into the wind And through the twisted trees. And all my mothers turn away And say they never bore me.
There's nothing new under the sun, So I give my eyes unto the moon, And I give my ears to the night birds, And I give my voice unto the shades, And I give my song to the folding leaves. See the passing river turn the stone. See the blowing wind bend the wheat. First there is a mountain then it's gone. The mighty oak is twisted by the thorn.
In the rain. In the soaking rain. In the snow. In the freezing snow. Under moon. Under shining moon. Under sun. Under burning sun. Just like the river and the trees. A soul of a star in a grain of wheat. We shall sing. They can’t stop our songs. We shall play. They can’t stop our love. We create what they can’t destroy. They spread hate while we seek joy. Just like the river and the trees. A soul of a star in a grain of wheat. If you’re hungry, we can break some bread. If you’re thirsty, here is my canteen. If you’re lonely, sit and speak to me, Tell your story, let the candles weep. Just like the river and the trees. A soul of a star in a grain of wheat.
Smoke from the fire. Mist from your parted mouth. Wind from the North And cries from the south. We sit and sing, under the waning moon. It lasts all night but ends too soon. “Nothing is free” - the lie they spoke to me - But by starlight I finally see. Holes in our clothes - spiders in tangled hair. Can’t go to work - what do we care?
Mine is the shape of a hawk - I fly upon the wind. Mine is the voice of the crow - I cry dark veils open. Mine is the shape of the wolf - I run upon the soil. I have the horns of a stag - I call the stars to their heights. Mine is the shape of the thorn - I wind around the stone. I have the eyes of the fox - I see the first falling leaf. Mine is the shape of the rain - I fall upon the earth. I have the breath of the wind - I fall upon the earth.


It’s my own fault. The paths I took were never the easy ones. They just seemed to be heading somewhere I needed to go. Someone had drawn the map clearly and marked boldly “here be dragons,” never thinking it was the dragons I was seeking. So I wandered - not always with my feet, but with my mind and my heart and my soul. Stone Breath has always been the sonic outlet for my spiritual wanderings and as a result, some people have made up their minds, according to their hopes or wishes or interpretations, that Stone Breath as a whole - or me, as the lyricist - is one thing or another. Invariably, they have been wrong. I have even been told, on more than one occasion, exactly what religion I am by people who did not know me. It’s hard to put a pin on the map when you are always moving.
You may ask, what are you then? You want a name for something that cannot be named. You want a name that does not exist. However, I have not always wandered alone. It has been a great blessing for me to have by my side my friend and True Brother, Prydwyn - and it was Prydwyn who finally put a definition, if not a name, to this pilgrimage. When asked how he could so easily marry seemingly disparate ideas, he answered: “Some things hum. Some things do not hum. I follow those things that hum.” No bell has ever rang a clearer note than this - and my heart leapt when I heard those words. Finally, something to say when people ask! Simple and concise and true to the path. We are Children of the Hum.
And so, here is the first volume of Children of Hum in which we fittingly return to the 2-person line-up of our second album - just me and my Brother of the Winding Way. - Timothy. May, 2014. Red Lion, PA.


released August 26, 2014

Children of Hum, tracks 1-6
through broken heart to break of day: Timothy + Prydwyn: voices, lute-guitar, bouzouki, flute, harp, whistle.
All songs by Stone Breath. All rights reserved.

Bonus tracks 7-12.
These songs all date from the later period of the band. All songs by Stone Breath with lyrics by Timothy except:
10 is traditional, arranged by Stone Breath.
11 was previously released on a 2CD compilation called “The Devil in Love” which served as a soundtrack to the 1772 occult novel of the same name. The lyrics to the song are adapted from the novel’s scene wherein the Devil, in the form of a woman, sings a song. Music by Stone Breath.
12 was originally part of the benefit compilation, “For Lee Jackson in Space.” For more information or to download the entire comp see forleejacksoninspace.bandcamp.com
7, 8, 9 feature Timothy (voice, mandocello, tamboura-lyre, guitzouki, banjo, gutbucket, lute-guitar, whistle). 10 features Timothy (voice, cello-banjo) and Prydwyn (voice, bouzouki, whistle) 11 features Timothy (guitar, harmonium, voice), Sarada (voice), and Don Belch (guitar, harpsichord). 12 features Timothy (voice, lute-guitar, cymbals), Don Belch (guitar, bodhran, bass), and Brooke Elizabeth (voice).


all rights reserved



Stone Breath Red Lion, Pennsylvania

Stone Breath is not new. It is cracked. Broken. Imperfect. Hidden. Weathered by the seasons.

We sing of ghosts and of forgotten paths through forest and fallow field.

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