1. |
Burnt August
01:54
|
|||
|
The child of Burnt August
Became an old man
January, the next morn
A full shepherd’s moon
Led him in full bloom
As Saturn’s rings
Held him tight
I ask myself,
“Why, Florá,
Did we send him into that vast night?”
He followed along
With the transient traveller
He flew through the night
Though he followed no pattern
I paved a way for him
Through means of song
Now I ask myself,
“Why, Florá,
Did we have to wait so long?”
His statue grew clear
Void of life
It appears
The sky opened on
Just a promise
Of his song
He flew with the wind
Landing upon the black star
And he asked himself
“Why, August,
Did we take it all too far?”
|
||||
2. |
River Of All Bodies
01:08
|
|||
|
There’s a rhythm
To the River of all Bodies
Bodies of Rose
Rose of God
He left to me
To l et the leaves burn
To let the willows yearn
Faces lay upon roses
Hidden by leaves
August held to his mask
But soon fell to his feet
His face now adrift
In the river
I see his bloodstone,
The jewel of his sanctuary
In the river I wade
To recall the season
Whom did I learn from?
Why, the body of reason
And though I’m alone
I’ve seen beyond what I’m shown
Let the mask weigh heavy
Let the mask be a levee
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
The season was a father
To a lost child
But was the season a child
To a lost father?
Oh he found a home
In a hollow tree
Though he prefers
The stir
Of virgin leaves
Never kissed
By a casket of snow
Don’t you know
Don’t you know
Don’t you know
I command all leaves shed
To let new branches grow
Don’t you know
Don’t you know
Don’t you know
Through barren wood
All souls do flow
A mother gave him ego
What a double edged sword
He stabs
She mends with witch hazel
It’s all on the floor
The chicory is best
Since it’ll fix such a mess
Though she’s not too quick to heal
Everything he smites
She wants to feel
Spin the wheel
Spin the wheel
Spin the wheel
Spin the wheel
Spin the wheel
Spin the wheel
A mother’s kinder shrine
A simple sword formed of steel
Burnt August was the father
To his own lost child
But was August just a child
To a lost father?
Oh he bore his sword
To pierce the tree
He took the wood
Ablaze it be
The rings of age
And aura free
He scorns himself
On flames so hot
He’s cleared his shelf
Of all he’s got
All he has is leaves
Taken from the poor pure trees
He’s seeking to place them
Upon my knees
He’ll be with me awhile
To make sure I’m free
From winter’s grasp
And silent rasp
A daunting task
So where was he
In summer heat?
Burnt August left a leaf
With a letter underneath
He said
“I may be gone a short time.
Won’t you please promise me?
Hold onto your trees
Your wood
Your seeds
And grow, for me, a sanctuary.”
Will he return
For wood to burn?
Will he bear a sword
To cut the boards?
Will his temple fall
Leaving but a simple wailing wall…?
|
||||
4. |
I Play The Moon
02:50
|
|||
|
I play the moon
An illusion which
Seems to elude thee
You know, since, I play the ocean
And you’ve only a stream
You play the sun
N ow reflect upon me
Singe me with Burnt August light
I decree
I play the earth
Where all flowers bloom for thee
You could choose any rose
Yet I’m glad it’s by me
Now a ground in repose
Frigid, the weeds
The world silently froze
Burnt August,
I command you, too, freeze
I’ve been around awhile
On a colored road I flow
Do you think in my shade?
How much do you think you know?
Though I may occupy
A soul, a body, a mind
If not for the sun
Well the moon, it cannot shine
I play the birds
I walk with them
’Til dawn
In the morning they float
Off the chill of my clasp
To the warmth of your coat
Where light seems to last
There seems no need for the moon
Should the sun not pass
I taste the colors of feelings
So the grayness of grieving
Always lays upon my tongue
I’ve no sensation of living
All feelings misgiven
As phantoms yet to come
|
||||
5. |
Jazz Of A Rose
01:54
|
|||
|
You could choose any rose
Yet I’m glad it’s by me
I wouldn’t drink the rosewater
I wouldn’t bare the rosewood
I know from roses
I know they're no good
So if you choose to grow
I’ll care for the seeds
I’ll water and I’ll speak
I’ll do all they need
A poison drips slow
Off my cupids bow
It seems I bleed
As a venomous rose
You hide near the wall
Of the temple I built
You’ve burned it down
You’re covered in filth
You play the part
Of a man in the dark
The mask you bare
Won’t cover your heart
With poison comes radiance
Just so you know
I’ve seen you glow
Pure as a primrose
A rose is still a rose
So the saying goes
Sullied or sterling
I’ll always know
I’ve harvested the rosemary
Seeds that you’ve sown
I’ve poured some tea
Into the petals you’ve grown
You could choose any rose
Yet I’m glad its by me
You could choose any rose
Yet I’m glad its by me
You could choose any rose
Yet I’m glad its by me
|
||||
6. |
Florá I
00:43
|
|||
7. |
Florá II
02:40
|
|||
|
I ask the hawks
Ravage me every night
I beg they bring their talons
I won’t put up a fight
They may scratch
They may claw
But It’ll bring me to the sun
Just as I foresaw
Birds do fly
So should birds not comply
I’ve twigs to carve
Constellations into the sky
I rode with wolves
And was given a bloodstone
“You’re pernicious
You deserve to be overthrown”
They said
So I went all on my lonesome
August melted my bloodstone
And painted my face
So the deceivers
Matched my own
He left but a piece
Though I offered more than enough
August, I know,
Would refuse to take too much
For now I lay with August
As he paints along my spider-webbed breasts
I’m laden with venom
And his touch is now tainted
So he’s poisoned himself
Since I’m the one he has painted
I baptized August
In an omen of ash
Recovered from the sage I ignited
To rid us of seasons past
Buried in ash, now’s an old porcelain doll
With skin as pale as my own
Wrapped in a tapestry
Takes a birds eye to see
I’m the doll who bled ill
And August was sent
On account of my will
I dictate the seasons
I dictate the sky
Isn’t it just like me
To then dictate the birds flight
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
I hang the eyes of a child upon my own
When the air gets too cold and I am feeling old
Still wish I could lose again
Yet can no longer stand the chill
Still wish it could entertain me
Yet the game had lost its thrill
I thought I played for you
But you had lost and I still trudged through
I won the game for you but you had gone
Do you see why I wish to lose?
It’s the leaves that weighed me down
From the trees I’d hang around that blinded me as a child
I could not see but I could sense it was dark
And that my mind had been defiled
I bet that if the wind blew
I’d tell the world all I knew
I may regret it if I choose to
Now I’ve command on all I do
The air is raw
Let my body thaw so I shall be free
Avail on me the flame of the tree
You kept burning indefinitely
Until I’m singed my touch will be frozen
And I can no longer find our home
I hang the eyes of a child upon my own
When the air gets too cold and I am feeling old
Now the leaves buried by snow see the dark as I’ve known
Let them be on their own
|
||||
9. |
January, The Next Morn
02:48
|
|||
|
Time aligned on the other side of the sun
My dawn hadn’t risen
Your sign not yet come
My dawn but true dusk
As fickle as a flicker
My dawn untrue lust
A lover’s blood runs thicker
I sew sweaters of spider webs
Adorning each the perennial sage
Recalled to life by hum of daze
After dormant a return
Through the years I’ve learned
There’s a rhythm to
The river of all bodies
Bodies of rose
Rose of God
He left it to me
To let the leaves burn
To let the willows yearn
Burnt August flew high
Ja nuary, the next morn
He must have left traces
As the air still gets warm
And the earth still repaints
It’s leaves to forewarn
Of the incoming winter
His temple forlorn
I intend to imortalize
A soul who’s gone floating
Yet never dies
Only to perch atop the highest pine
Only to say you see all
I cannot see you
I could spot your ragged mask
From the depths of the river
The river a basin
For the faces laying in her
There’s genius in that old mask
I hope it won’t fade
As quickly as you’d like to claim
|
||||
If you like Samantha Sklar, you may also like:
Gorgeous fingerstyle guitar playing from this Portland, Oregon musician that captures the spirit of American Primitive in dazzling detail.
go to album
of beast and bone
by Jordann Funk
Jordann Funk excels at eerie and hypnotic folk music, topping spidery guitar with creeping vocal melodies.
go to album
Shelley’s career-best new LP explores making a home in a world that seems hopeless.
go to album
Wealth of Sorrow
by Cahalen Morrison
Bright and skipping songs that foreground the sound of the banjo and fingerstyle guitar in music that feels timeless.
go to album
Like The River Loves The Sea
by Joan Shelley
Gorgeous, pastoral folk songs from Joan Shelley, available on Bandcamp in exclusive teal vinyl.
go to album
Rivers and Vessels
by Joan Shelley
A lush new covers EP with plenty of talented guest appearances, with 100% of proceeds going to the Kentucky Waterways Alliance.
go to album
The new record from Joan Shelley, produced by Jeff Tweedy, is warm, rich and earthy, Shelley's voice laying deep in a latticework of guitar.
go to album
