1. |
Shook
03:21
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bare feet feel the stones
where the oil has killed the grass,
wander past the burning barrel.
my Father had, in haste,
dumped a bad roof in the swamp
and it made an island,
and I stood on top,
and I spotted and old dead dog.
Cut out past the Ford,
through the much, and the marl, and mosquito
and I saw it's rotted jaw.
I was shook, so I lit up one of my Mom's cigarettes,
that I'd stole from my Brother.
Squeeze through the treeline
to the hillside of the highway,
and I feel the rushing wind.
Head North towards the bridge,
where I sit sometimes when I get pissed,
and I think about the future.
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2. |
There Is No Know
02:30
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The taste of their tears, lingering here
inside the losingest year, these things burrow.
It does recall a time, times ago,
deep in the valley's pure snow,
and in the city's stale glow.
There is no want.
There is no know.
There are dull pangs of wonderment,
and dull pangs of woe.
The touch of the tame,
soaked and swollen,
calloused and teared and stained.
The grasping of eyes,
pale and pretty,
flashing and teared and strained.
There is no want.
There is no know.
There are dull pangs of wonderment,
and dull pangs of woe,
and dull pangs of discontent,
and dull pangs of love,
and dull pangs of accomplishment,
and dull pangs of soullessness.
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3. |
Glory (Glory)
03:41
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Oh! Isn't it Religion?
Oh! Isn't it Me?
To be standing on a mountain and taking the time as it be?
Hallelujah, Glory Glory, Hallelujah
In a vague way of living, slicing the branch from the sapling IS my mourning.
Oh! My morning.
Hallelujah, Glory Glory, Hallelujah
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4. |
Ride The Storm
06:38
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It was a soaked summer's morn',
when one solemn oath was sworn,
inside my mind and yourn,
that we would ride the storm.
There was an old man in Colorado,
drunk with the dogs and me,
passing Old Windsor to the Alaskan,
oh, the trouble he'd seen.
We were carousing with some Mexicans,
wincing with the liquor,
hollering harps from the balcony,
they asked the lawman to shoot me.
Whistle in the black hills with the cavalry,
ringing the burned Ponderosa,
and smelling the soot in the breeze,
and feeling far and free.
I fell in love in Kansas,
lost in the eyes of a waitress,
oh, how I wished she'd ride with me.
She sat smoking as I was leaving.
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5. |
The Hunter's Master
01:59
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Oh, does she love another?
The matriarchy sings in a blonding choir, in a Western spring.
It dreams of swindling able love, and curses the ruin of fate, believing in a psychic cause that's there with most, present as the cigarettes she lends to all the strangers that tend to the city land she's living on.
I find transcendence in blistering accomplishment, blocking a thought from passing, and flustering with her motive, and fondling love from a distance.
Oh, the hunter's master only prays for nourishment.
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6. |
Gypsy (Children)
02:34
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It could speak to children,
a testament to goodness,
and as long as it is able and willing,
the loving leaves will bound and flourish.
You had it coming when you walked on through the threshold. I've seen it welling up inside you're very soul.
It could be a gypsy,
rolling oats and wandering,
or it could be reveling in the loveliness of real nice company.
You had it coming when you walked on through the threshold. And I've seen it welling up inside your very soul.
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7. |
Old Hands (Small Eyes)
03:02
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"Would you help me slide my coat off?"
"When I learnt to fly, I learnt how to leave my bad lover behind me."
"We have considerably lowered our altitude."
Old hands and small eyes, old hands and all.
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8. |
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in through the shade and the sunny shine all through my life
you, with the wet and the witchy eyes,
come to my side
boo doo dah
tumbling under the frothy tide,
clear your mind.
boo doo dah
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Andy Weaver Kingston, New York
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