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1. |
When It Rains
04:03
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I was hoping that things would everlast,
but what we brought to the table was no repast.
It was not the nourishment to feed our lives or our dreams.
We had a confluence, but now we're separate streams.
I was hoping that things were evergreen,
and the hard winter was just the time between
all the beautiful days and the way we'd live our lives.
But rivers change their course
and the dry beds shudder with memory
when it rains.
Everything else washes away.
It drifts away.
It melts away.
Everything else,
everything else goes.
Everything else washes away.
It drips away.
It melts away.
Everything else,
everything else goes
except ishq, ishq, ishq.
Everything else washes away.
It drips away.
It melts away.
Everything else,
everything else goes.
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2. |
IYDBHDBLH
04:56
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If you don't belong here
If you don't belong here
Then please don't be long
Thought that he was the excrement but his words were such
that I would rather flush them than discuss them.
Bumper sticker arguments don't solve no problems.
They don't feed mouths. They don't build houses.
Not in my city.
You made your big splash, peddled your novelty,
but your roses still smell like doo-doo to me.
Get outta my city.
Yeah, find the coast you love the most or a town to settle down
cuz it won't be soon enough that we stop seeing you around.
You can see yourself out of my city.
Whatcha gonna do to make it better?
Whatcha gonna do to make it better?
The more I opened my eyes it was plain to see
that I don't possess this city. It possesses me.
I guess that's how it is in this city.
Depending on your skin tone or your pedigree,
there's only one way out, or maybe two or three.
That's how it is in this city.
Most the world's a present or a former colony
and liberation comes in varying degrees.
Get out in your city.
So reach out to your neighbor, and we'll just see.
My sister told me, "We're gonna get free!"
Whatcha gonna do to make it better?
Whatcha gonna do to make it better?
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3. |
Way Out
04:07
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I'm so easily possessed.
Where am I while this cuckoo bird fouls my nest?
I settled on getting by instead of giving it my best.
Now, even when I spread my wings to fly,
there's no place for my head to rest.
I wish I never let them fork my tongue.
I tried to keep my mouth shut, but the smoke filled up my lungs.
Now I can't decide if this fire inside is a blessing or a curse.
Every wellspring of joy is a welcome surprise
as I keep my eyes on each passing hearse.
Is justice coming? Its mills grind oh-so-slow.
How can we be so lost if forward's the only way to go?
I don't know how long we'll last without those that have passed as the journey grows dim.
Every vigil shines tiny points of light
and the dangers of the night become less grim.
Here's a story that needs no introduction.
You slip up. You settle on dysfunction.
You ignore instruction. You implore, "Destruction, take me now!"
Though it may take years, I hope you find your way out.
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4. |
We Ain't Dead
03:27
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Well, I said, "After the ship sank, well, we had survivor's guilt.
These could be the feelings upon which dedication is built.
And if this sea wanted us dead,
we would be. Uh huh."
History had passed, and the powerful had set their course.
There we were, and we were still riding on our horses.
And if history wanted us dead,
we would be. Uh huh.
This river's muddy. Yeah, the Mississippi is wide.
And if it's Old Man River, then this Valley is its bride.
And if this river wanted us dead,
we surely would be. Uh huh.
This city's tough, and it's made of bricks and beer.
And even if you're careful, well, you...
you just might die here.
And if this city wanted us dead,
we surely would be. Uh huh.
...The way we felt after so many others had passed,
we thought that every day, it ought to be our last.
But if life wanted us dead,
we would be. Uh huh.
Well, I said, "After the ship sank, well, we had survivor's guilt.
These could be the feelings upon which dedication is built.
And if this sea wanted us dead,
we would be.
Yeah, if this city wanted us dead,
we would be.
But I know, well, I know that you and me,
well, we ain't dead."
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5. |
What Makes You Sing?
05:15
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My way in life is sauntering. It's not efficient.
But if you've got no use for wandering, for you there isn't.
But what do you do when your life's become a prison?
Ask yourself,
"What makes you sing?
What makes you sing?
What makes you sing?"
You can always trust a politician to be a politician.
Once they got your vote, well, they don't need your permission.
You'll execute their orders, and you'll accomplish their mission.
It's got you wishing your situation was more self-sufficient.
"What makes you sing?
What makes you sing?
What makes you sing?"
My head's a box of puzzle pieces and some of them are missing.
It's you. It's you I'm missing.
My life was talking to me. I finally listened.
That don't make me a (profit/prophet),
but it gave me a silver vision.
"What makes you sing?
What makes you sing?
What makes you sing?"
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Ephemeral Temple St. Louis, Missouri
Particles dance their way from dust and water to the warmth of living patterns finding their way to a cricket's fiddle or a cat's eye or an artist's hand. These are brief but magnificent phenomenons; infinite beauty passing through temporal forms. Life is mysterious and worthy of being asked questions. ... more
Ephemeral Temple recommends:
Working on Something
by Bobby Stevens
This is the distillation of several years of Bobby's time in Saint Louis, both musically & lyrically. Though I've always enjoyed hearing the songs played live, I'm so glad to listen to these tracks.
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Unfolded Along The River
by Oxherding
this oxherding album is one of my favorite things to hype, especially because part of the funds went to ArchCity Defenders.
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In a word: elegance. in two words: elegance and strength. Mr.Olivieri, i hope You will publish more albums like this. Best wishes!
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The Edge of the Land
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Spencer's indie folk sophomore album was recorded live in the studio over the course of two days.
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Isasa makes contemplative and emotionally rich fingerstyle guitar in the mode of John Fahey and Jack Rose.
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