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1. |
The Dead Keep This
07:11
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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.
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2. |
The Winding Way
04:51
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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.
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3. |
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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.
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4. |
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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.
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5. |
All This and Alice
04:02
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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.
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6. |
At the Well
02:24
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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.
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7. |
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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.
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8. |
Just Like the River
02:25
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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.
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9. |
Starlight Sight
02:06
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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?
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10. |
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11. |
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12. |
Dark Veils Part
04:33
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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.
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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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