1. |
Go To Me
03:56
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Wake, with your head where the light always crept
through the glass, to your bed. And you breathe, and your breath
it is mine. And your heart, when it stops, when it starts,
when it's fast it's mine.
Be in the eye, where the war and the cry and the truth are at rest,
and your oughts and your best, they are mine.
If you're shy, if the streaks in the sky
shake the windows...
Know, I was like you,
and the sun came down and the dust blew around over me.
Come beside me,
with the pen in your hand and your hand in my hand
go to me
Let me give, let me talk, let me live
in your pillow. Kill your fear, whisper words in your ear
that your kite's in a box, that your boat's in the docks
and you're sleeping.
Oh, you got nothing,
you got nothing on me, that's the best place that you'll ever be.
Come beside me,
with the pen in your hand and your hand in my hand
go to me
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2. |
I am a Collector
04:24
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I am a collector of your love
from a whimsy to a name that you have heard of
the heart of you I snatched is just a button on my sash
so I could soak a tear
I am a collector of the fear
that everything I'm biding for is not here
and losing all this sleep to think that nothing's mine to keep
and there are none for me
no good for me
Come away from nothing, I can show you
Come away from nowhere, I will loan you
There had been some plans that I had made
where we married in a church in our hometown
but if it came to pass it was as if I'd never asked
and I was left alone
Alright, alone
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3. |
Threads
02:38
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I am sold to the open
I am holding a sail to the sky
I won't trade for a closing
I don't want to sell bread for mud pies
My mind is broke and I'm not a handyman
I'm not a wealthy man
but you can
with sticks and hands
come stitch a pulse where the threads have ran
You are not a fallen angel
you are not far away from my side and
breathing soft in the morning
blowing off all the scales of nighttime
And I can't hold my own when the blood is there
when tiny eyes do stare
but you can
with joyful hands
come wrap a blanket around this man
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4. |
Call and Answer
03:57
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It came as a storm on the edge of something
a plough through the field, and the farmhand's gone running
and the cedars are a-shaking like men at their judgement
bowing to the howl as the dust churns about them
But where is your sound?
Ruthless, and cackling, and swept across the grassland
the fire comes burning and screaming like a madman
and the ground is a-trembling and split apart at the seams
carving a chasm and groaning in the shudder
But where is your sound?
Restless, my face is wrapped up like a widow
gazing from the mouth of the cave, open window
and quiet as the land relenting its fury
your song is as silent as the heart it is stirring
And there is your sound
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Jordan Klassen Vancouver, British Columbia
Fairy-folk for troubled times from Vancouver, British Columbia.
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