1. |
||||
You never looked over your shoulder dear, and that autumn won't, once more, be found
I step back now that I am older dear, and doubts I had start to compound
I took inspiration but was so inclined, to color the pane streaming light from behind
And the truth smashed my stain glass and though I pine, I see the shade was mine
They walk around naked in paradise, deluded in young love's pursuit,
The serpent gave blind eve some good advice, these suitors should all eat the fruit,
You're vindicated by some broken hearts. Why couldn't they see they were doomed from the start?
The apples they haul make a heavy cart- she's not with you, depart
Rise from the rubble around you, friend, rebuild on a far away plot
Don't chase after that which destroyed you, friend, just salvage the pieces you've got
The neighbors won't listen when you try to warn about the temptation that will leave them torn
That house was no home, all the faces wore, expressions quite forlorn
Say what you want to me, say it
Say what you want to me, I'm listening
Say what you want to me
I'll give you all that you are shouting here,
but it doesn't absolve you of what would appear
to be taking advantage of one man's fear
Another to endear
|
||||
2. |
Out of the Inn
05:57
|
|||
It's much darker on the floor, within a within's space
Come to study the decor, as absent as your face
Standing on my shoulders, just us two, I feel days older
Evening turns to night, turns into now
We move fast and time moves slow, we wish it would move slower
I'll remember this when time runs out
Painted picture on the wall, painted tissue in my hand
Missing canvas for to stall, that which the painter planned
See you there my hind-brain's lighting up, pull up the window
Air comes in and pauses the affair
Three AM, the bell's at ten, and when the next day's over
Where will one of us a space prepare
Shitty food, a lively mood, admits of some discomfort
Why should I feel nervous in my space?
Catch a groove before the move from November remember
Pace to solitude I couldn't face?
Waiting for a knock to knock, waiting for a shout to knock
Waiting for a knock to shout, waiting for a shout to shout
|
Plumes Boston, Massachusetts
Plumes is Ben Long (on the drums!) Tim Green and John Thorsen. Music- listening to it, learning to play it, writing more of it- has been one of few things we've taken really seriously for the last 7 years. These songs grew through many late nights and missed appointments. Our songs are all really about something. It's sincere and sometimes naked. Hope you like it ... more
Streaming and Download help
If you like Plumes, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp