because you were only here briefly
because you were just passing through
you never intended to unpack your bags
but you offered to spit shine my shoes
we shared beignets by the clock tower
we swapped shadows by the light of the moon
we forgot all about where we came from
and the places we must return to
we discovered a light in the darkness
just as it was starting to rain
you blushed at my butterfly kisses
and sutured my bleeding refrains
I might have known you were a figment
you were a cartoon desert mirage
the dream of some parking lot attendant
fast asleep in his empty garage
it’s still hidden after so many seasons
it’s still not clear whodunnit or for what reason
while Schrödinger's cat waits for someone to see him
is he dead or alive?
now I remember the shadows
from the day when the moon blocked the sun
crescents overlapped liked the scales of a snake
and revealed how the spindle was spun
now crossing my mind in three quarter time
is a small family of deer
graceful and slow, i watch them go
leaving the meadow clear
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024
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Folk artist Josienne Clarke revisits music from her back catalog, infusing these lonesome songs with a new luminosity and drive. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 18, 2023