Here is a turning point
you will be moved out of the way
you've made your choice
and so have made ours
you are a razor's point
you will be handled carefully
we have scars to show
and so will paint yours
you are dead to me, damned to be Abigail
and as we make our way to this bargain
struck over wet things in the park
even your matchbook gave me more chances at spark
and all that I want is full of seeds
and I can't contain the things that need to grow
we'll uncurl the edges of the earth
to a respectable dish
and all things in push-pin reach now
just as you'd always wished
for the corkboards of tomorrow, wait
for a love that gives it's fingers weight
I won't need much taming,
not for one of your kind
it's all of your senses
to this one sense of mine
through the hot breath of your dreams
each night in July
that catches your cold exposed left shoulder
and practical turn by surprise
I drop my guise, I turn, I pause, I fly
to the mouth of a river
to the cairn-braced stones
to the flood line scars
to the falls advancing backwards, stray
to the poorly sorted substrate, stray
what did you see, what did you hear?
what things blossomed and withered under your care?
see there was a flame, light shy, blue-dipped and black-laced
coughing and flighty
worth tending in a dark place
we are gold you see, cant you see me Abigail?
as we make our way down from heavier things
the bits that you've lost
are still no loss to me
here is a turning point
you will be moved out of the way
you made your choice
and so have paved ours
“Dirt” is the imaginative group’s most streamlined effort to date, although no less captivating and sonically adventurous than the rest of their catalog. Bandcamp Album of the Day Mar 30, 2018
Every sound here is made using Megan Mitchell's voice, even though the music often sounds more like Earth’s vibrations than a human singing. Bandcamp Album of the Day Mar 28, 2023