1. |
The Weight
05:05
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There are bags that need unpacking
There are things I need to let go
It is quite time to lighten the load
Lighten the load
Yes, there are bags that need unpacking
Lines to be un-blurred
Because heavier than any galaxy
Is the weight of stories heard
CHORUS 1
And it’s not even that,
That’s not fully true.
It’s the weight of believing them
That cripples and burdens you.
And it’s not even that,
That’s not fully true.
It’s the weight of believing them
That cripples and burdens you.
The stories I refer to are the
Mortar between the bricks
The facts are facts
But what makes them stick?
A child’s mind reasons life’s whys and how’s alone
Blaming herself, shaming herself become
Pockets full of stones.
CHORUS 2:
And it’s just that.
That is more true:
The weight of believing them
Burdens and cripples you.
And it’s just that.
It’s what more true:
The weight of believing them
Burdens and cripples you.
She gets older, yet it may take years and decades to see
She can empty her pockets and
Choose to be free.
No, it’s not that easy, because
shame burns so deep
The fire of that scarlet letter won’t
Let you sleep, won’t let you sleep!
CHORUS 1
And it’s not even that,
That’s not fully true.
It’s the weight of believing them
That cripples and burdens you.
And it’s not even that,
That’s not fully true.
It’s the weight of believing them
That cripples and burdens you.
There are bags that need unpacking
Things I need to let go of
Now is the time to lighten the load.
Lighten the load.
If letting go means simply letting it be,
Then I put down any burden and feel myself free.
Sleepless eyes wide open to all I have been
Soft palms wide open, I inhabit my own skin.
CHORUS 3
I am older now, a new young crone.
I unblur the lines and choose
What is my own.
I am older now, a new young crone.
I unblur the lines and choose
What is my own.
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2. |
10,000 birds
05:20
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She said she would cover me so I could sway.
She said she would cover me so I could sway.
But she came and went and I was alone.
10, 000 birds were there to greet me instead, but their flight was no solace.
There was only the sound of their wings flying away from me.
Departure seems to be the only way to go, but that’s no way to really love.
Coming and going, coming and going in a world full of diamond flash and dirt, there is no other way to say it:
You get cut and then you get buried.
Wing beats and bird-calls don’t soothe the spirit!
They announce the funeral.
Only a few mourners arrived, and they remained standing.
Moments passed like eagles over a canyon: majestic and far away.
And the cars lumbered like oxen.
Seems it’s only me who wants to wrap this in a still envelope and send it backwards.
I could stomp it on the floor, I could send it on a slow boat to China.
But my heart would still know. But my heart would still know.
She said she would cover me.
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3. |
Common Man
03:28
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7 minutes in god’s time,
When Buddy Holly pushed his glasses back up his nose.
Maybe baby, I’d know him at some point in heaven time.
Although I am not sure what’s on the other side of those clouds,
and I have anxieties about expanding.
Maybe baby, I’d know him at some point. Heaven time.
The Holly, the Buddy pushed his glasses back up on his nose…
It’s about staying in some sort of box. Maybe baby.
It’s about staying in some sort of box:
That’s the common man: tight, compact, and orderly, for the most part.
But bigger glasses could lead to a bigger vision!
It’s about staying in some kind of box. That’s the common man.
That’s the common man: tight, compact, orderly, for the most part.
Bigger vision that extends off the page, off the screen, 360 sensorial degrees of perspective!
Although I am not sure what’s on the outside of that arena and I have anxieties...
5 minutes in god’s time. The Buddy, the Holly, pushed those glasses back up his nose.
Maybe, baby, I’d know him, in heaven time.
Green, brown and twitching like a grass hoppers legs, but with no sound.
It’s only a screen for other things to take place behind.
Arrgh! Tension in the arms, tension in the legs, tension in the jaw,
the empty maw jaw. There is a lot of that! Tension.
How do we take down these piles? How we do pop the silent screens?
Make statements, that’s how! Say it, that’s how!
Stop speculating, that’s how! Drop that pussy footing and just say it!
Sound it out like a phonograph, like a foreigner, if you need to,
and say it!
Bigger is what? Bigger is what? Bigger is what? Like a planet that spirals in its orbit and even that may be too orderly for what we need. I heard even Pluto got the boot.
That’s the common man. That’s the common man: timed nature, timid nature, timed nature, timid:
All this freedom chained to a post. And a tiny one at that!
Where are we? What are we? Where are we? What are we being told?
What’s being sold and why do we continue to buy it?
How do we break down the divider? Say it, that’s how!
Boom pow, say it now, that’s how!
Stop rubbing on that rabbit foot and just say it.
Sound-it-out-like-a foreigner-if-you-need-to.
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4. |
Polestar
04:54
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Just let me hear the sounds of the terrifying breezes that pull you in.
There’s an infinity inside you that I’d like to landmark!
Perhaps I could get to know where your majour galaxies are?
Verse 1
There’s some motion here under the influence of a Central Force,
and I sense steady gravitational potential.
The pull of a luminaries:
Suns, moon planets are tugging at their orbits,
and a star that wants to shoot on into the mix…
I love emotional cartography.
Let’s map the course of those uni-flying objects!
I am so curious. I am so curious.
Refrain:
Can I hear the pulses of your biggest polestars?
Do you want to dilate time with me?
Perhaps I could get to know where your majour galaxies are?
Verse 2
I read that when the universe expands empty space remains empty.
But I am not sure I believe that because
I feel my hot dark matter moving fast into your isotropic skies
BAM!
Nebula and asteroids,
Oooh, the charming quirks of your quark...
Yeah, yeah , yeah, I know it may not work at all.
In this whole continuum, I may be
Several light years too far away to
make contact with any real understanding.
But I am so curious, I am so curious.
Can I hear the pulse of your biggest polestars?
Do you want to do some time dilation with me?
Perhaps I could get to know where your majour galaxies are?
Verse 3
Like I said, it may not work -this whole thing- because,
I arrive at your door with my own strings attached, with my own cosmic debris swirls!
I have my own dark energy dust bunnies dusting my orbs.
My lumpy luminosity has a high escape velocity…
But what would happen if we cinch Orion's belt around us?
Would that squeeze you closer to me?
But I am so curious. But I am so curious.
Refrain:
Just let me hear the sounds of the terrifying breezes that pull you in
There’s an infinity inside you that I’d like to landmark!
Perhaps I could get to know where your majour galaxies are?
i am so curious. i am so curious.
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5. |
Such a Lover
04:52
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Refrain 1:
And the tea so green and bright was poured right
in a beam of light
that had slid into the room.
Something was carried into the room
on that light: hopefulness and a certainty of joy.
The light moved and began to touch my cheek,
tender fingers traced the line of my ear and
the arch of my black brow.
Refrain 1
And it moved, and it moved until
each of my cheeks was held,
each of my eyes was kissed closed.
And I am breathless now
with the brilliance of this lovers
complete attention.
Warmth reaches through my skin,
slowly entering the layers
of my body, of my being-ness.
Refrain 2:
A full beam, like a lovers sure hand
slowly maps my shoulder and my breasts,
brushing my nipples through my dress,
with the warmth of its palm.
My breath catches.
Refrain 3
Such a bold and silent lover, the sun!
Mmm, Loving me so and in public!
I am watching now this slow conquer of my body.
The sun pins me to my seat,
Covering my body with its heat.
Refrain 2
Refrain 3
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6. |
Sounds
03:01
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7. |
Trying to Tell
03:49
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Refrain 1:
Baby, baby what I am trying to tell is
some ideas just don’t travel well.
What’s in our heads churns around and
falling out, makes a battle ground.
You say “I don’t think any of this has done you any good.”
Well, with your head full of sand, who’s to think you would!?
I’m so sick and tired of being played for less,
In your world, your shit seems to smell the best.
Refrain 2
And if we try to open doors,
we see how you feel is not just yours.
If we could read between the lines,
We’d figure out what’s yours, what’s mine.
It’s such a freak that you see orange
When I see green.
If I were speaking in Greek you’d know exactly what I mean.
We are living in the same place but are completely lost,
me stuck as underdog and you as alpha-boss.
Refrain 3
And if we try, we might find
how I feel is not just mine.
And if we look, we might see
just who of you is stuck in me.
To you my mouth flaps open wide and closes.
My words are just a mess on the floor.
I ‘m talking too loud, too crazy and too much,
filling the room with noises that are pounding down the door.
Refrain 1
Baby, baby, let’s try.
Let’s try, let’s try.
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8. |
Peckable Shiny
04:41
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Refrain 1:
What’s new?
I don’t know how things are for you.
There was a time when we stayed in touch.
There was a time when we loved each other so much.
Now you don’t say much to me.
I don’t know what sphere you’re in
Can’t say it even means much to me.
He was light and buttery with a thousand story lines
that caressed the midline of my mind.
Shiny peckable, pokeable, chittering chitty chats.
Hocus pocus pudding in the pie,
lovers we became: sigh, laugh, smile.
Mental wavelengths helixed into
uttered brilliance.
Toe to toe to toe to toe
to eye to eye to eye to I to I to I
to hand to hand to heart to heart to heart
was once you and I
standing side by side
brown heads held high in pride.
There was lots of space for you to work.
Whether hunched over the box tock-ticking
those black square plastic ivories, or
soft-eyed deep in your beer,
you were peeling the words off
the vaulted ceiling of your chromed cranium.
Refrain 2:
There was a time when you asked for my view.
I was the first you’d bring your projects to.
Dizzying, crafty, funny, sonically sound,
you labored each word, comma and noun.
Now you don’t say much to me.
I can’t say what sphere you’re in.
Can’t say it means much to me.
Mental wavelengths snapped into stuttered lettered brilliance:
Pure stimulus.
I loved your thousand story lines and sound systemizing.
You were sharp like a diamond on a wire.
Hocus pocus pudding in my eye.
Lovers leaving, we became
separate, poked apart, pecked apart, chitted apart
as the story lines outshone the heart to heart,
outshone the hand to hand to hand,
outshone the eye to eye to I to I.
Systemizing of the chromed cranium took precedence.
No eye to I. No hand to hand. No heart to heart.
Lettered apart, poked apart, pecked apart, chitted apart.
No side by side. No chits, solo chats. No chits, solo chats.
Refrain 3
What’s new?
I don’t know how things are for you.
There was a time when we stayed in touch.
There was a time when we loved each other.
Now you don’t say much to me.
I don’t know what sphere you’re in
And we know what it means to me.
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9. |
The Grove and the Lake
04:54
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Tall trees surround the rows of benches in the grove.
Our tender eyes gaze beyond the good reverend.
A soft breeze moves through, rustling pages.
My eyes gaze at the sunlight on the lake.
Sunday afternoon and
We are dressed in skirts with flowers and shirts with collars.
The Reverend winds up to do his rooster imitation.
His 85-year-old neck craning and
the skin on his skinny arms flapping back!
He was crowing to us, calling to us, calling us
to lift every voice and sing,
at chapel every morning,
Bible study every afternoon,
and devotion every night.
My heart was as wide as a silver river then
and spilled towards what promised bigger.
Flowed to seas, each drop in me wanting to fall, fall into vast.
I simply wanted Jesus to be my friend.
And inwardly, I held his hand his so tight.
I was 5 and held his hand.
I was 6, 7, 8 and 9 and held his hand so tight.
10, 11, 12, 13, God protect me.
Chapel every morning, Bible study every afternoon,
devotions, devotion…Jesus be my friend.
14, 15 and 16 and inwardly I held his hand so tight.
And my eyes gazed past the Reverend to the waves on the lake.
I was 16 when the Reverend lowered me
into the tender waters.
Kissed by God that bright summer morning,
I lift every voice in me.
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10. |
Out of here
02:12
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11. |
Genuflection
05:49
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I am a genuflecting mama, I am on my knees ‘most all the time.
On my bended knees, I kneel and pray and pine.
It wasn’t a man that broke me. And, no, I am not even broke.
It’s living long tender years that made my heart fall open.
I have lived through several famines, genocides, and world wars.
And my heart breaks for all us victims, and for the warlords.
Why does life have to be this way? Why can’t we all get along?
I know there is a whole other kind of love that exists beyond right and wrong.
From down on bended knee, let me tell you what I know.
No one ever gets out of here alive, when it’s time: we all got to go!
Let’s make that exit now in a symbolic kind of way.
Let’s die to old beliefs now, in a deeper kind of way.
Abide in what you know as love, and let’s start brand new day.
And underneath what we know as love, there is a whole new place.
Beyond and below what we know as love, there is a whole new place.
It’s tender, it’s brave, it’s humble in every way.
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12. |
Babies on the bus
04:38
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Lip-sticked babies. Bearded babies
Smartphoned babies. Going-home babies.
Big-bellied babies. Face-pierced babies.
Red hats, blue, striped, dotted, too.
Cold hands, old eyes.
Soft drinks, to-go fries.
Refain
I see babies on the bus.
Babies on the bus.
Big forms, you know: ham hands, lady legs.
I see small hands, small eyes.
I hear grumbling, groveling, cranky sighs.
But what I really see are
Refrain
Puffy jackets, made-up faces, tattooed knuckles, un-tied laces,
Curly hair smiling Hi. Long arms, stifled cries.
Big emotions tidal waving, candy crush Soduko playing.
Some babies dressed up all nice, others hidden in their cloaking device.
Baby on the I-pad, music spilling out their head.
Entitlement-itis baby. Bleeding-heart baby. I-don’t-give-a-care-or-a-fuck-baby.
Refrain
When I am in Love Mode, I get this idea in my mind
that we’re just babies on the bus, wrapped up in bodies of adults,
Swaddled in layers of ME, layers of stories.
There are personal stories, collective big stories on sound systems
gone bad,
thought patterns ruling sweet babies on the bus.
Sweet babies on the bus.
Everybody wants a hand to hold.
Everybody wants to be told,
“I understand. I understand.
You are original love.
You are original love.”
Babies on the bus.
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Silvervest Montreal, Québec
Silvervest is the duo project of Kim Zombik and Nicolas Caloia. With just voice and bass, their aim is fresh music that plays between swagger and sweetness, caressing and careening, amusing and amazing. Vibrant, the music is unset and generous.
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