1. |
Westward Facing Graves
03:37
|
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|
(instrumental)
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2. |
Highland Song
04:45
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|
Obscured inclement sun could set before it warms a thing
Silver clouds obscure that ochre meant for calmer clime
The wind is howling on the sepia grass
And the butcher bird in brambles waits for time to pass.
This might not seem real, but it is
This wind is but a hint of just how cold it can be
As it echoes upon the western facing graves.
The highway cleaves the hills, the miles fall beside the road
Frost encasing nettles slows times to seal this winter scene
The butcher bird in brambles waits for time to pass
The wind is howling on the sepia grass.
This might not seem real, but it is
This wind is but a hint of just how cold it can be
As it echoes upon the western facing graves
This highland song.
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3. |
Marvel of Her Mystery
03:30
|
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|
Mercury's eyes, Jupiter lies
Approaching sound of thunder
Light bleached black, day falls back
Fingers trace in wonder
Rip rip ripping,
Drip drip dripping,
Bleed a man dry
Slip slip slipping,
Flick flick flicking,
Wicked her cry.
And she goes over and under,
Over and under,
And the world shuts down.
Silver tongue sheath, florid little wreath,
Encircle and press.
Pressured lean, beg to be seen
Standing there beside her.
Rip rip ripping,
Drip drip dripping,
Bleed a man dry
Slip slip slipping,
Flick flick flicking,
Wicked her cry.
And she goes over and under,
Over and under,
And the world shuts down.
Mercury's eyes, Jupiter lies
Approaching sound of thunder
Light bleached black, day falls back
Fingers trace in wonder
Rip rip ripping,
Drip drip dripping,
Bleed a man dry
Slip slip slipping,
Flick flick flicking,
Wicked her cry.
And she goes over and under,
Over and under,
And the world shuts down.
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4. |
Fire Trail Winding
02:01
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|
Like that little magpie singing in his woodland, warbling at the dawning sky, the song of the wild flutes its melodious bell-call passed shrill beaks and mottled plume.
The grasses part for progress.
And long the trail through the thicket cloyed with wattle dressed as sun - or little stars that bloom amongst a vagabond sepia.
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5. |
Interval Interlude
05:00
|
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|
(instrumental)
|
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6. |
Timber & Rust
03:38
|
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|
I am afraid that you might listen, I can't stand my own echo. Leaves on the wind, the ink is wet with rain. I'll send you my words, you show your scars, and we'll send them to the endless south.
Flight on flurry, frostbite hurry. Kookaburras laugh at me or the void. The eucalypt is bowing in the wild winds, the creaking timber. I'll send you my words, you'll show your scars, and we'll send them to the boundless south.
Fiberglass shields offer little protection
The gale under linoleum floors
Weatherboard weathered nothing.
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7. |
Goulburn Girl
03:38
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|
Planting the seeds in the dry summer highland,
Because you didn't like the cold,
The year was new.
You were born with the new year with the sun shining down on you
So the trees would grow tall,
Up she goes.
Sometimes I wonder if I dreamt it all,
But no, my mind can't conjure kindness such as yours,
And my pen can't write words with a strength like yours,
It must be yours.
There's skin on the strings and a bruise on my finger
And blood from my heart
Now you're gone.
I cried when you left, but now I don't cry much at all,
Because the seeds that she sowed
Are trees now grown.
Sometimes I wonder if I dreamt it all,
But no, my mind can't conjure kindness such as yours,
And my pen can't write words with a strength like yours,
It must be yours.
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8. |
She's a Nomad
03:20
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Sometimes the road is better than home
And she knows he’ll soon be coming back
And when you’re in the red mist
She hears the wind chimes call –
“He’s not a man, but a boy with a gun,
And in a way he’s much more dangerous.
Sleep in hiding, you’re safe tonight,
If you put the campfire out.”
Sometimes she wishes she was in the caravans,
A gypsy reading hands
It’s all in the stars
Oh put the campfire out…
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