You, you dreamt about owls,
trapped owls, who couldn't fly.
While I, I dreamt about you
wearing a red silk dress that reached to the ground
you were spinning and twirling around
and I opened the door
and before
I could speak, you practically flew out.
So for me, pain's red,
red silk,
and it sounds like:
"..."
Then we, go outside,
sit under the same sky
that's been sat under by
Jane Austen, Thomas Hardy,
Napoleon and all his various guards and we
talked, and we laughed,
I shared the slightly scared
contents of my mind only to find
them reflected or accepted or both.
So for me, happiness is black,
black night,
lit by stars.
But why do they draw straight lines between the stars
when there are
more beautiful pictures to be found
if only the lines were a little more round?
If they joined the stars with curves,
soft curves -
well, if astronomers haven't the nerve,
we'll invent our own constellations,
call our innovations art,
and we'll give them heart.
And we'll learn to know the skies
and we'll share synchronised cries of surprise
when a star dies
we'll say, "..."
Then we go inside,
say goodnight to the owls
using a mixture of hoots and howls
and they reply,
"We, we're free, and we're alright,
so you can sleep well tonight!"
They say, "We, we're free, and we're alright,
so sleep, well, tonight."
The haunting new record from Canadian folk artist Avi C. Engel bridges old and new traditions with a minimalist approach. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 24, 2024
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