1. |
I. Rise
02:02
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I. Rise
Wake, my friends!
Dawn is coming soon,
and I will fly away.
Wake, my love!
The night is not as dark
as you once perceived.
After all,
we just keep on rollin’ on.
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2. |
II. Paper Boat
04:13
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II. Paper Boat
I’m a faceless captain
sailing on my very own newspaper boat
down the muddy banks
of a town I like to call,
the town with no name.
Where strangers pass by
and they all look exactly the same;
where ink leaks from the hull
of my fair ship.
It seems I’ve lost my eyes now,
while digging for roots deep underground.
Could you help me find them?
I know you can feel, just follow my voice
through the graves
until the roots surround you
and light leaks from the hull
of my fair ship.
A faceless captain sinking with his ship.
While strangers pass by,
looking upon him with fear
as he waits in silence for
god to answer his prayers.
When I’m hanging from the mast
screaming out, ‘Oh God
where are you now?’
Will he even hear my call?
When my paper boat has run it’s course
and my eyes are a monster I’ve never seen before,
it’s time to cut them out.
I’ve gotta cut them out, cut me out,
burn it down, burn me up,
tear it up, let it in.
I’m holding on just to let go.
I’ve got to cut you out.
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3. |
III. Morning Dreamer
03:08
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III. Morning Dreamer
Today I awoke to grey and white.
Again, with hopes that your voice
would travel to my bed.
Though all this blue sky noise
is wanting to fill the space,
I leave it empty;
a place for you and I
to stay.
Where the sun’s always shining, the water’s always blue,
reflecting perfectly the image of me and you
upon the shore when we were younger,
with all the worlds worries we couldn’t be bothered.
But the storm clouds came and we sank the ship that we rowed.
Now all my life’s spent waiting for the day when I will wake up
and see your face smiling up at me, we’ll greet the day.
Doesn’t that sound nice to you dear?
Maybe it could happen one day.
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4. |
IV. Cold Hands
03:13
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IV. Cold Hands (The Ground Is No Place For A Soul)
Cold as the north wind
o’er the fields of green,
she came to me.
Trembling, I took her hands
as she led me up
to the mountain creek,
where I wade in the water
and feel the life leave my hands.
The ground is no place for a soul.
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5. |
V. Mandala
03:24
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V. Mandala
Resist, don’t breathe in the gold light.
No, no color on these bones will do.
It’s simply a matter of choice,
and I’m sorry that it took so long
for me to find you again.
I followed feathered water into the night sky.
Their arms then released me into the moons eye,
which stared into the sun that crouched behind the tree
on the mountain, whose roots travel down
to meet the burning sea.
Then I sang out from the top of my soil tower,
to all the world below:
“ Hello, beautiful! I’m here now.
You can close your eyes and sleep.
I’ll still be right here waiting for you
when you wake up.”
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6. |
VI. Blue Lines, December
03:14
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VI. Blue Lines, December
Sitting, staring blankly down at the same old white page
and blue lines. December crept in, unaware
though right on time.
I hear the church bells chiming, midnight.
The January doses weren’t strong enough to satisfy
the need to fill the holes that I’ve gouged out.
Could you believe that this is where I’ve been?
The control panel is dead.
Lights stopped flashing, the frequencies broken up.
The world is spinning round and round,
The gauges have broken.
The world is spinning round and round.
The control panel is dead.
The world keeps spinning round.
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7. |
VII. Night Tides
05:22
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(Instrumental)
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8. |
VIII. Strewn Bones
03:07
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VIII. Strewn Bones
God will come for me to night.
He’ll grab me by the feet
and hang me from the trees.
God have mercy on my bones,
they’ve been strewn and thrown across the yard,
for the dogs to play and the children walking home
from sunday school to spit in my face.
God, the water’s rising high.
It’s reaching for my neck,
poundin’ on my chest.
God, send to me a boat.
save my dirty bones
before it’s to late
for the dogs will play, and the children walking home
from sunday school will dance round my grave.
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9. |
IX. Feathers
04:48
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IX. Feathers
I spend so many nights staring at the past,
as if I expect something to change.
I don’t even know that what I’m looking for
is what I had originally intended.
It’s all just feathers from the birds (at this point).
If all things are cyclical, then we’ll meet back here; right?
I sometimes like to think that we won’t,
that existence is linear. What an awful thing, consistency.
The ants go marching, one by one, by one
into the cold ground.
Floating in the breeze, silent dancers, so serene.
So many acts diminish time, but what’s it matter, they’re in the right.
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10. |
X. Song Of Thunder
05:39
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X. Songs of Thunder
The trees are twisted,
and the roots are torn.
The winds have taken
their mother’s own.
Will you wait by the river?
Wait for those who come to you.
I’ve walked with dead men
through moonlit trees.
They spoke of letters
that none will read.
Will you wait by the doorway?
Wait for them to come back home.
Will you wait for me to come back to
the streets that hold the roots
that reach up for the light
thats born of the street lamps
that litter the earth with their flames
wrought from devils that tempt in
the moths to the blade
that severs their wings from their spines.
Will they start to breath in the night?
When our shadows grow taller
than our souls.
I ran with spirits
who sang with trees,
their songs were born
of the mountain peaks.
Will their songs ring with thunder?
Ring for those who’ve gone home.
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11. |
XI. A Change Of Scenery
05:22
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XI. A Change Of Scenery
It’s been some days
since I last saw your face.
(Your fingers wrapped around my callused hands.)
Now it seems I’m just waiting,
finding ways to pass the time until I
can call you mine.
It’s been so long
since I last felt this way.
(As though I’d give it all to see a smile.)
I’ve been caught up,
infatuated with the haze of passing ghosts.
In time, can I call you mine?
Cause I’ve got a feeling that
Autumns more than falling leaves,
and I’ve been in desperate need of this change.
It’s been some days
since I last saw your face.
(I hope it lasts the summer months)
Now it seems I’m just waiting,
finding ways to pass the time until I
can call you mine.
‘Cause I’ve got a feeling that
Autumn’s more than falling leaves,
and I’ve been in desperate need of this change.
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12. |
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XII. Consider Yourself Not Alone
Friends, I bring you here,
to the edge of night.
Where all those demons from the day
will be sitting on your night stand
waiting for your dreams.
Here they whisper their songs,
pulling us down to the grave.
All the while these street lights,
they’ve been singing songs of the night.
Such sweet songs they’re singing in my ears:
“Well, the nights not as dark as we’d like to believe.
Its sure as the dew at the dawn.
If there’s one thing I know,
it’s family comes first,
so consider yourself not alone.”
I’ve been walking this earth for 21 years, and I’m damned as the devil if I’m wrong;
By blood and bone, or deeds yet unknown,
consider yourself not alone.
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Andrew Kavanagh Newbury, Massachusetts
Andrew Kavanagh is a board certified music therapist, singer songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist located in Byfield, Massachusetts.
www.facebook.com/kavanaghmusiccompany
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