14th and final track from the album AS SMALL AS ANTS

Support me and buy the record on Bandcamp: https://thisistheglasshouse.bandcamp.com/album/as-small-as-ants

Stream the record on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/3nsiCBttVO5PmlsIT8mDVY

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Credits:

Jayda Thor - Cello

Rhye Politylo - Bari Sax

Ezekiel Dukart - Drumkit, Additional percussion, Guitar, Bass guitar, Vox, Vibraphone, Glockenspiel, Timpani.

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Lyrics:

Come down he said peeling oranges in the dining room

Come down like ashes to flowers open up cus they all knew

In my childhood home alone

And free to be real

And free to speak plainly

Telling stories of the trees and me and the rivers and the streams

And the mountains

And the mountains

But this too was all in a dream, a distorted picture projected from my psyche

Where his face is many

And his voice remains the same

So leave the tree with feet untouching the ground

A body passed around

For those who ought to know: I have a tendency to look like a deer in the headlights!

Despite these words I think this newest shade is coming true

I think of younger times when purple light was bending blue

And when it all comes around

And when the valley is cleared

Should I remain painted by all the years?

I am a simple stone still encased in mother moss

A symbol still despite the things that I have never lost

And in these moments

I am turned over

And I admit

There is no pride

Come down he said painting fruit under the falling tree

Still life, created the person that was made to touch but not to see

Moving his hands in sync to the chorus of his new favourite song as it plays from my bluetooth speaker in the left side pocket of his jacket

Biking down the gravel goad Into the boreal

Passing through each other like ghosts through walls

And the world kept spinning alone

But this too was all in a dream

A familiar picture projected from my psyche

Where his face is many

And his voice remains the same

Reluctance the word of the day

The year of quiet battles

Underneath the sands of Lewis Beach where terror meets the mirror water

Living in the little house where so many are split for just a little bit of warmth to heat this home, this pale deliverance

I am a summer day doomed to be vanquished above beach days and field trips and yearly family gatherings

But until my turn to circle the planet

I am turned over

And I admit

There is no pride

There is no pride, pride

Away the latex grey is washed as it begins to fade were it reveals

Pink Naked into view like all my friends who share the shade

In ignorance I learn about myself, my own indignity

And it all now breathing down my neck It's never felt this close to me

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

This was the last summer of me myself: the mild amateur

This is the year where he will finally fade lavender

I leave the tree but forward motion being slowed uneasily

So better bending into blue It's light a higher frequency.