1. |
Egg (full album)
34:51
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2. |
A Parable
03:55
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A Parable
This is how I begin, this is how I can be.
This is why it started and why it won’t end.
This is where it goes. Life turning old, dying cold, sinking into the sea.
This is how we begin, this is how we can be.
This is how it started and why it won’t end.
This is where it goes.
Before our fall we we’re fallen down and fallen from before.
Fearing rule and facing land, the hands built this from seed – and sun.
Life turning old, dying cold, sinking into the sea
Washing it out, thinking about, rising from the sea.
From the water to the sun, from the sun to the dirt,
from the leaves to be. To be something green. This is where it goes.
Life turning old, dying cold, sinking into the sea.
Washing it out, thinking about, rising from the sea.
A pear, a bull. Bird to human: live and let live. Long live dirt.
Dirty air breeds dirty water. Bird to human:
a parable to save the earth, long live water, long live dirt.
Long live dirt. Air and soil. Seed and sun.
Water then. Birth for all. Wish you well. Still we go.
I can’t fly, far enough. Won’t look back, still I roam.
Not here in, the morning. Cages fight. Taking Flight.
Next morning I’ll be born and will first breathe fresh air,
I’m certain that soon wind will be my friend.
Playing this circular.
This morning’s water feeds and turns my growth to root.
Pollen meets pistil and makes wind seed’s friend.
Water then. Birth for all. Playing this circular. Playing this circular play.
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3. |
Home
03:51
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Home
I needed a home, you gave my land away.
I took off into the air, and landed in your oil.
I caught you a fish, and planned you a party.
You raided my nest, and ate it unseen.
I taught you to fish, you then broke my pole.
You cut and gutted me, hung me over a fire.
You do me wrong.
Forgot me and I burned to a crisp, and burned
the fire pit, and the forest we once shared.
Our home is gone now, we shouldn’t eat fish.
I need a home now, you can plant a tree.
But you can’t live there, and you can’t cut it down.
Don’t try to climb it, you will fall to the ground.
You are wrong.
If I needed a home, could I perch on your porch?
If I took off into the air, would you admire or fire?
If I gave you a plant, and made you a meal.
Would you accept and make me one in return?
If I taught you to make food, with seed, sun, and soil.
Would you learn to plant, to harvest, and share?
I wish you well but I wish that you would change.
and still we go.
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4. |
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Season
Season after season, home after home, going home.
Reason after reason, for staying alone, not lonely.
Hill Mynah, don’t mimic me.
‘Don’t follow our path’ is the only lesson learned and that’s so sad, but it is.
Season after season, time after time, losing time.
Reason after reason, for being true, not trouble.
Hill Mynah, don’t mimic me.
You’ve learned to bait and all we learned is not to wait, heading towards the end,
and still we go. Beaks change over time.
Evolution is the only word that will last. and still we go.
Fly away, from this. Swim away, from this.
There won’t be another chance for this.
Can’t you adapt to the cold, can’t you react to this?
Surrounding you warmly, taking you home, and then the moon.
People making problems that we can’t give to our home.
Some things must be done or else no more coastal cities.
You’re re-drawing the lines of sea vs. dirt. This is going to hurt.
These are not problems that we can ignore.
Changes must be made right now or no more coastal cities.
You’re re-drawing the lines of sea vs. dirt.
This is going to hurt the most for those with nothing and everything to lose,
and those who don’t have the freedom or the right to choose to save our home.
It’s both the most and the least selfish thing that you can do.
For changing our ways helps others as it helps you to save our home.
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5. |
Taking Flight
03:12
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It don’t bother no one that you’re a setting sun;
a sword with no sheath nor stone.
I’m happy to be in this family, with feathers, beaks, and foresight.
I’m coming home, where the sun hits the air.
The future looks bright, or is that just the morning shining through these shot eyes, feigning flight.
The trouble it seems comes from drowning in dreams, not feeling the force of death.
Forever in debt, to the sins of the dead, both blinded and seeing through time.
I’m coming home, where the sun hits the air.
The future looks bright, or is that just the morning shining through these shot eyes, feigning flight.
Forever blind to your mistakes.
Not feeling the push of life, nor feeling the force of death.
The answer, It seems, comes from believing dreams, not feeling the force of death and then passing it on, in ovular form, giving back to both air and soil.
I’m coming home, where the sun hits the air
The future looks bright, or is that just the morning shining through these shot eyes. Taking flight.
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6. |
On the Line
03:00
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Sit on the line and watch it all go by, then it's over.
Everything brings new frames of mind and time, hanging us all on the line.
Lining up loosely, bringing up the behind.
Bypass evolution. Behind the door is a paper cup, a seed, a match and time.
Beg for the time to make it all work out,
then it's the beginning.
Flying further changes time and place, as does laying on the ground, will less.
Lining up loosely, bringing up the behind.
Bypass evolution. Behind the door is a paper cup, a seed, a match and time.
Behind the door is an egg inside an egg
if time permits this line. Lining up on time, taking sun and earth to make a birth for all.
Sit on the line and watch it all go by, then it's over.
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7. |
I Can't Fly Far Enough
04:48
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I fly the same flight every year,
and every year is worse.
There are fewer birds in the air, and more of us in dirt.
It hurts more and more to breathe the air
and to swim in the sea.
More trees are dying and falling down,
it’s now to harder just to be.
I can’t fly far enough.
I fly the same night every year,
and every year is worse.
There are fewer fish in the sea,
there’s more of them in dirt.
I saw my baby in a creek bed,
I saw my baby in a store window.
I saw my baby caged in a room,
I saw my baby caged in a zoo.
I can’t fly far enough. I can’t fly far enough.
It smells like fire, and I’m in the pit
You sound like a liar, and you’re fine with it.
I’m flying through storm clouds, and still I roam.
Make us all proud and help take care of our home.
I can’t fly far enough. I can’t fly far enough.
I can’t fly far enough. I can’t fly far enough.
Then a shotgun cuts through the air.
The shot spreads and cuts through feathers.
I won’t look back.
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8. |
Of Cages Fighting Flight
03:14
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Of Cages Fighting Flight
Hold me. Hold me down so that I don’t go.
I can’t be the one that you didn’t want to grow.
Let me. Let me go into the places I’ve been told,
I won’t know them until I’ve touched them.
Fold me. Fold me up and send me on my way.
It’s not right being stored here flightless.
You told me a story, horrible and quick.
Hoping for endings with mending of fences blocking sight. Of cages fighting flight.
Flying now, soaring, no plan of coming down.
Not here in the morning, and just half here at night.
Of cages fighting flight and then of future parking sites. Stories holding the past and present, and the future’s flightless sinking birds.
They’re flying now, soaring, no plan of coming down.
Not here in the morning, and just half here at night.
Of cages fighting flight.
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9. |
Circular
05:54
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Circular
It’s morning and I’m flying for breakfast,
Picturing protein running and me diving for days.
This morning, it’s pouring so I’m nesting the best I can
but I know what will come up with the sun.
Playing.
Next morning I’ll be born and will first breathe fresh air,
I’m certain that soon wind will be my friend.
In future mornings I’ll be thinking of first breaking this egg
and later flying with family to warm air
But soon I won’t be dreaming, I’m pushing as hard as I can,
this shell will break, and I’ll be free.
Morning, to be born and start again,
Feeling the need to be free of this me.
This morning’s water feeds and turns my growth to root.
Pollen meets pistil and makes wind seed’s friend.
But soon I won’t be dreaming, I’m pushing as hard as I can,
this shell will break, and I’ll be free.
So soon that I’ll be living and dying again in this,
this game we play, this circular play.
Playing. Playing this. Playing this circular.
Playing this circular play.
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Eolian Denver
Eolian: (adjective) Relating to, caused by, or carried by the wind.
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