1. |
Oh, Mongrel
05:23
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Though I have no dog in this fight,
you are behaving as if I might.
Howl, I hear you howl through the night;
you have no reason to bite.
Oh, mongrel with nowhere to lie,
do you stop roaming once in a while
or walk incessantly? City she's wide,
she's worn out, pulls from all sides,
she bites.
Walls of crumbling crimson survive.
One remaining, one trembling ending light
that shone once to aid you in your plight.
See your hand now, bloodied by handle of your knife.
It cuts from both sides
and bites.
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2. |
Would
03:02
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The river she grabs me,
or, rather, catches gently.
She's to take where waves will break,
I'm quietly consenting.
The stream, now, she has me,
and I, for one, know better
than to question her direction,
than to fear bad weather.
I act as vessel on my journey
to the robins and swallows;
on wooden skin they rest their wings
and, silently, I allow.
Though I do not hurry,
travelling a curved line,
my mind may race to another place,
touch water for the first time.
I know not what I reach for
and yet with every year's pass,
hair windswept, arm outstretched,
try catch in open hand.
I know not what I reach for.
A chest, though strong, may shiver
through mighty storm; limb is torn
and falls in hopeful river.
Still, I stand, sturdy,
grow trusted, grow older.
See sparrow's eggs left in the nest
that rests on my shoulder.
Deep are feet buried
and thus I remain grounded.
Would freedom be mine in great ocean tides?
I wonder what arm found there...
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3. |
Climb
05:48
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Somebody called, said they're looking for you
to report a fire in the forest where you grew.
Now, every hour there that should have been given you
is charred and greying.
Climb the stairs to the apartment you just left,
on your bedroom floor lies your only black dress.
As you ensure there's nothing else to forget,
the embers are fading.
Two birds to board bring you to a burnt tree,
the fallen branch is an unnatural scene.
The flowing river through narrower streets
will remain waiting.
Through heavy steps, heavy hours that you move,
know that all leaves have been connected by the roots,
and roots may reach each new flower that should bloom;
no one's fully straying.
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4. |
Pisses
06:38
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Kevin Fowley Dublin, Ireland
Hailed by Folk Radio UK as a "refreshingly unique new talent", Kevin Fowley has captured listeners with his distinctive guitar style and literary lyrics, since the release of his debut record, Oh Mongrel, in 2018. The self released EP, produced and arranged by Ross Chaney (John Francis Flynn, Subplots) has earned him comparisons to the likes of Nick Drake and John Martyn. ... more
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