1. |
As Children
03:25
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2. |
The Clouds
03:33
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3. |
Pancakes
05:07
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These dreams are so big,
And my body’s so small
You have the same affliction I do
You can’t seem to leave the ground
But lately Ive been running off to far and distant fields
You live inside a snow globe that goes turning inside me
I hitched a ride to Massachusetts
And I called you from the mountain
The planets they were turning, turning, turning over me,
And you said that you were searching for the door of no desires, for to cross over completely, for to lay your bible down,
Oh yes, oh no, oh yes, oh no...
But I wanna know, in the mornings lately, are you making yourself pancakes, are you singing in the driveway, are you raising that there angel on your own.
I barely can contain it
This big how much I love you
My world in crystal pieces,
This bone in my throat,
But I’m out here getting older
And stronger,
And older,
I am changing with the seasons
And the rains do come,
But what do you know, in the mornings baby
I am making myself pancakes, I am singing in the driveway, I am raising this here angel on my own
We walked across the city, the new and shiny city, the high garage, the cigar box, the salt dogs bridge...
Came home brimming and exhausted to the fallows of your bedroom, to the tangled field of blankets where you lay me lay me down
And I gave over to the once more fragmentation of myself, I was spilling into pieces, I was turning on my shelf,
Oh yes, oh no
But what do ya know, in the morning baby, you were making me some pancakes, we were singing in the driveway, we were raising up the angels on our own.
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4. |
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5. |
A cat that I like
02:08
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6. |
Room
05:06
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Here, in my rainbow room
My husband, coming up the stairs,
He turns on the light,
I see
The table and the chairs, the dresser and the drawers,
The bed against the wall, the slippers on the floor,
He asks me what I’m doing, I tell him of the place
He doesn’t quite believe me, I tell him to
Turn off the light, turn off the light,
I show him the dark in which I dwell,
He reaches in and takes a pearl
The dark from me begins to spill,
His hands of light they pull and pull
Then one day I don’t know the place, I don’t know the place
Oh, my iridescent womb, my little rainbow room
Is full of fruits and monsters, I’m running from and after,
Oh what did we create, the world has all turned grey
The lifeless incarnations, the boxes in the basement,
For what? To show him what I am?
Next time, I will not show my man
My room, my rainbow room
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7. |
Love
02:34
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8. |
Dark Field
03:43
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9. |
Symmetry
04:14
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10. |
Snow (Acoustic)
05:11
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11. |
The Giant
04:17
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the mice are building nests up in my room
and the grass has grown its way up through my bed
there's a beast making its path across the land
and it leaves strange structures in its stead
i have walked along its silica veins
and i have talked down its aluminum wires
i have slept to the song that it plays
and i have burned on its funeral pyres
but i awoke, to find myself grown so much older
i awoke to find the garden alive
and i called that this dark age be over
and we steady ourselves for the climb
saying if there is a beast in our midst
then shouldn't we learn how to talk to it?
so i'm going up to ride on its iron shoulder
just me and the giant, just going where we're going
I'm gonna sing to it softly, i'm gonna ask lots of questions
i will not do its bidding but i will be its friend
now the earth makes its way around the sun
and the sun makes its crawl across the room
where i'd gone into a place inside myself
and I'd slept in my darkened cocoon
but i awoke when the light began to enter
i awoke, to find the membrane was torn
and i pushed through these walls made of paper
and i stood with my mission assured
saying if there is a beast in our midst,
then shouldn't we learn how to talk to it?
so i'm going up to ride on its iron shoulder
just me and the giant, just going where we're going
I'm gonna sing to it softly, i'm gonna ask lots of questions
i will not do its bidding but i will be its friend
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Hana Zara
Hana Zara is an an evolving collection of musical thought-bytes, worlds turned inside-out, and the scattered debris of our psychic oneness
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