1. |
hand trimmed
03:09
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With regards to covenance, a mother breathes in appreciation to pallid horizons. Calloused strands deliberately slacken sending sails full of life; coupled with a self gratification often not experienced. A single option of onward persists within these currents, forth driven and expansive. Fingers curl around rope's bodies; breathe comes again.
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2. |
heronbone
02:49
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A stolen faith awakens within another the trembling feeling of awareness, without ignorance; separated by holy fissures, supported by semblance of secrecy. Unknowing rapture brings vague senses of qualities of emptying of thought. Years past relax and dissolve; details lost in shaded valleys through the hollow of a heronbone.
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3. |
In the Pines
03:19
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My girl, my girl. Don't lie to me. Tell me, where did you sleep last night? In the pines, in the pines. Where the son won't shine. And I'll shiver the whole night through. My girl, my girl. What have I done for you to treat me so? You cause me to weep. You cause me to moan. You cause me to leave my home. My home in the pines. Where I stay and shy. Where no one will ever fine. In the pines. In the pines. Where the son won't shine. And we'll shiver when the cold wind blows.
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4. |
The Cuckoo
04:00
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Gonna build me a log cabin in the mountain so high. So I can see my darlin as she goes flyin by. Oh, the Cuckoo, she's a pretty bird and she warbles as she flies. But she don't sing cuckoo til the fourth day of July. You can see that I've wandered by the dust that's on my feet. Now I build a log cabin so my darlin will find me. Oh, the Cuckoo, she's a pretty bird and she warbles as she flies. She won't bring no trouble and she'll tell you no lies. There's trouble, there's trouble, there's trouble on my mind. If trouble don't kill me I will live a long time. And the grave will rot me and turn me into dust. 'Cause trouble has found me and left me with no trust. Oh, the Cuckoo, she's a pretty bird and she warbles as she flies. But she don't sing cuckoo til the fourth day of July.
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