1. |
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2. |
Eleven Weeks
03:05
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Since we last spoke
The past eleven weeks
The stacks of paper left me feeling
Like sentience is not quite what it seems
When we last wrote
It was the sun and me
With cliffs as high
And fears as deep with my
Magnum opus, my starry-eyed recitative
The color on these trees
It's like something from a movie
Last night I smiled
While laughing at a moonbeam
We're all moving
I felt awoke
Our summer music spree
My reflections on being cut free
It's turning out to be the strength I need
I hope you know
That there's still joy for me
In fleeting moments I take relief
In my suspicion that these past months
Were a dream
You should see these trees
It's like something from a movie
And when she smiles
The earth's no longer moving
The thought's soothing
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3. |
Pale Blue
02:40
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Although we're windswept
We're buffered by the trees
The past couple of weeks were riddled with unease
It'd take several hours to drive
Picture living different lives
And I'd rather stay inside
When I watch the world pass by on someone else's time
Is that the sun I'm staring at
Is that my visage staring back
The turnpike's jammed no turning back
And we spin around the cul de sac
Is that the sun I'm staring at
Is that my visage staring back
And we spin around the cul de sac
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4. |
Driftless
03:22
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There is a street lamp
Twenty feet outside
From where I sit in bed
Waiting out the night
Left your keys on the table
It's clear we've no need to drive
It's you and I floating through space
Fates intertwined
And as the snow fell
While the cars passed by
The window was obscured
Frost blocked the light
I've not changed I've merely stayed the same
I've been dreaming so it seems less strange
(x2)
I'm unsure if I will ever be
Sure of who I am before I leave
Maybe check back in awhile with me
I'm just trying to feel ok
(x3)
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5. |
Four Portraits
04:25
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There's Arnold
With his back to me
Wandering down through an ill-lit street
I'm curious
And would like to entreat
Is it inspiration or self-defeat
And from the corner his figure fades
And should I follow or retrograde
There's Anton
With a furrowed brow
A crooked finger and non-plussed scowl
There's symmetry
He will soon endow
Crafting tone rows with his head faced down
If I seek pleasure in melody
Have I betrayed best tendencies
Oh Alban
We part our hair the same
Posing next to a drawer and frame
At 23 and two years of age
Your work is tasteful your life's urbane
As for the despot's who bring you down
A century later they're still around
And so I sit by the window sill
Feeling sad, the questions linger still
I'm trying to decide if it's fake or real
I'm all alone
In a noisy throng
Nameless and ageless, all strung along
Nobody else can name this song
Mispronunciations and words spelled wrong
At times like these I think I'm on my own
A new self-portrait of my own
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Vansire Minnesota
Dream pop band from Rochester, Minnesota
press/mgmt: onehalftone@gmail.com
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