1. |
Dreams of Flying
03:15
|
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|
The ghost who haunts the well of water loves
The ghost who haunts the chimney
Most will tell me that I ought to get out
Both of them are haunting me
I like you more than dreams of flying
|
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2. |
Sky Rivers
04:30
|
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|
Although she is far away from me now
There are rivers in the sky
I shall build me a ship somehow
With sails of feathers
And cast it in the air
Way up high.
Way up high over the dark clouds
Way up above all the storms
I shall ride the lightning bolts
And I shall outrun those three
Women we call the Norns
By the stars in the seas
And the seeds in the sky
Grant that my darling
I will see again
With my own eyes
With my own eyes
|
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3. |
Fly, Flyer! Fly!
02:59
|
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|
Fly, flyer! Fly!
The sky is a feather cloak.
Clouds are spun and knitted yarn of various quality and stages, sometimes chunks of wool and streaks of flax, sometimes woven together and covering the sky. Never-yet-always finished, alive and changing, breathing. Now dark, now light, now grey, now pink, now mango.
It’s feathers are whole flocks of birds, whole formations and songs moving about the cloak as the Four winds do the rite of sky daily and eternally.
I shall weave with the winds and drape those clouds around my shoulders and join the birds in song and flight.
Fly, flyer! Fly!
|
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4. |
Jazz Kabbalah Waltz
02:47
|
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|
Keep in mind
that today
is the official
day of Mourning
The Loss
of A Woman
You Never knew.
then again
if you’d have
knewed her *
One kiss and your’d
have forgotten
Your own name
anyhoo.
Anyway
It is time
For us to get
Back to work
building bridges
to faery land
For need’s sake
We will drag
To earth
our dreams back
With our bare foots
And our own hands.
|
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5. |
Tallywacker
02:44
|
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|
All I ever wanted from you is
To lead me into a dark forest
By my tallywhacker so that
I’m never seen or heard from again .
|
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6. |
Scalped
03:25
|
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|
Between her cleavage I sharpened my blade
Gave it to her, my dear knife that I’d made
She scalped me, took my rifle and horse
I lie here in the dirt and sing without remorse
Here come the wolves and here come the ravens
Here come the maggots and here comes the end
Here comes the rain down and here is the burning sun
Let’s do it all over again ‘ere
The weekend comes
|
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7. |
||||
|
Imagine catching lightning in a bottle then smashing it over your head then slitting your own throat with the glass after it electrocuted you
Instead of viewing it freely
Maria who was called Amelie
Imagine one of the masterpieces stepping out of the frame and out of the museum and slapping you in your face, lighting a cigarette and catching a taxi without me
Maria who was called Amelie
Imagine there’s nobody left to reconcile with, like mythology or delusions or a thing you’re not proud of so you wipe it from your mad head never seen not spoken or heard of again verily
Maria who was called Amelie
|
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Podvig Darwin, Australia
Podvig (meaning spiritual struggle or heroic feat in Slavic languages) is a band with a fluctuating membership and fluctuating styles, founded and headed by Levin Diatschenko. More often than not it t is just Levin! Podvig has played in genres such as doom and drone metal, minimalism, classical guitar, avant guard noise and weird love songs. From Darwin, Australia ... more
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