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The Clearing
02:04
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Shot from the sky and torn between thumb and forefinger. Astral light.
The smell of fire and bright prisms in your stare. If we're quiet enough, we can hear the drinking of the river.
Feel the heat from our bodies. Still as the trees. The fabric that holds me together. No matter how fragile our minds can be.
The clearing, the purge, the place where you said follow. Framed tightly, we were folded into each other.
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2. |
Mockingbirds
02:30
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Clever is what you're looking for? I'll do my best to sit still, if you promise to listen... really.
Mockingbirds sing away, sweet lines for a rainy day.
Cheekbones, handsome eyes, keep me in mind.
Quiet laugh, heartfelt, that's all that I need.
Big enough for two, this island floating on a sea of endless glass.
Mockingbirds sing away, sweet lines for a rainy day.
Cheekbones, handsome eyes, keep me in mind.
Quiet laugh, heartfelt, that's all that I need.
We'll take this island with us to the end, never really isolated but do we need that?
Run downhill hand in hand, feel the rush.
The weight of gravity downward and the spiral of it all.
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3. |
Pulse
02:10
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The pulse is so piercing, it's all we can see and feel. Taking away the dynamics means flat. Stagnant. Dull.
Turn up the volume, bleed a little, fall flat on your fucking face. It's these experiences that make us. That break us.
It's our souls that need healing. Help from others. Consideration for each other and a mind full of compassion.
Friendship, community and the willingness to let it all go. Check your ego at the door and lay yourself on the line for others.
Fingertip to Fingertip. Breath to breath. Embrace with our backs to the wind and hear its howl.
Friend here in my arms, you're always welcome, to laugh, to cry, to die.
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4. |
Parts & Parcels
02:48
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In an instant, hotter than the suns we see in the night sky.
Eyes alight like candles but it's hard to see in the dark.
The spread of light doesn't carry the warmth.
A notion of comfort, annotated, abridged, afar.
Wave long to the parts and parcels.
The hair in her wind that whipped off the coast.
It's all still here. Everyday, we watch the sun rise and burn the ocean bare.
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5. |
Cold Hands
05:01
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Fate have its way. I saw this future. Vague with a splash of sarcasm.
I'll close my eyes so they don't play tricks on my ears.
Distant conversations, too many to hold, too many to read.
Interpret what? The mind and all of its fallacies? Keep quiet and let them turn you.
Cold hands, so calculated. The warmth left long ago.
A landscape devoid of life. Pale. Premeditated.
Fata Morgana. Complex. Distorted.
Closer than before but farther than you ever knew.
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Conditions Records Austin, Texas
Independent record label producing radical pieces of fine art.
Est. 2011.
ATX/SF.
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