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Andrew Kavanagh

by Andrew Kavanagh

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1.
I. Rise 02:02
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.
2.
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.
3.
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.
4.
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.
5.
V. Mandala 03:24
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.”
6.
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.
7.
(Instrumental)
8.
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.
9.
IX. Feathers 04:48
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.
10.
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.
11.
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.
12.
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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All songs written and produced by Andrew Kavangh.

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released November 16, 2013

All music written, performed, and recorded by Andrew Kavanagh.

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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.

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