1. |
Border Country
02:43
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There is no end in me
for the Border Country.
Beyond the wall and the gate
the fields run away endlessly.
There is no end in me
for the Border Country.
There's all this space to incarnate
and all the selves that I could be
And so I stand
quiet in its wake and watchful,
a sense of myself
fleeting as a touch of joy (on a winter morning stark blue, cheeks like bones in the scent of birds).
There is no end in me.
Maybe all is as it should be,
that I should find myself at home
among the many lives that sing to me.
That I should find myself at home
among the many lives that sing to me.
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2. |
Outside the church
05:16
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Standing in the garden
waiting for the mass to end.
Couldn't hear the talking
it's all leading to the same.
I've heard it all too much before
standing in the garden
leave my brother speak your name.
Outside the church
there's all the feelings
Outside the church
I did the crying
Outside the church
lay all the feelings
Outside the church.
Standing by my father
watch the wood touch the ground
hands balled even tighter
keep myself from screaming out
too filled up with grief to grieve.
Standing by my father
anger is the rising tide.
Outside the church
there's all the feelings
Outside the church
I did the crying
Outside the church
lay all the feelings
Outside the church.
For all this time, I apologise
Outside the church
there's all the feelings
Outside the church
I did the crying
Outside the church
lay all the feelings
Outside the church.
Know these tears,
I cried for you outside the church,
trickled down the stones and met the earth
and there they rest with you
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3. |
Everyone heals
03:19
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Everyone heals but me
oh they all find a new song
I always wanted a song
light as a feather, a ride home in the summer
Everyone heals but me
the tables they turn for everyone
the knots they will turn into songs
light as a feather, please show me the way there
Holding tight I’ll be alright.
Yes, seems easy, sing me that song again
I’ll sing.
Everyone heals but me
seems I must stay on the shore
and watch other lives turn to more
I’m light as a feather, like dust in cold weather
Holding tight I’ll be alright
Yes, seems easy, sing me that song again
And oh,
I do no wrong
but I can’t be free
there is nothing I can do
to make me love me.
While the pressure grows
I lie to those I know
while the pressure grows
the artist in me that never was
keeps on shrinking, and it’s nothing.
Everyone heals but me
oh they all find a new song
I always wanted a song
light as a feather, to show me the weather
Holding tight I’ll be alright.
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4. |
Dresden
04:37
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In the great big house with wooden panels and high mirrors,
old people are talking low, nurturing a life that is not mine.
Sunday is falling smugly over the young couples and scrawny babies queuing up for ice cream after a perfect day in the park.
The life I want is running through me like a sick river, making my skin twitch as I speak to a snotty grandmother.
I wanted to please you but you like sweet drunken girls, running around, leaving a trail of belongings, eyes to the heavens as the night passes by.
I didn’t look crazy or sweetly drunk. I looked strong and decided. It’s what I want to be most of the time, keeping the furious whirlpool quiet beyond my eyes.
Are you in love? She said in my ears, her dark curls covering my
eyes,
And I answered: he doesn’t love me
And I saw my eyes in her gold brown eyes
The sky kept changing as the clouds pressed rain down or separated like pulpy jellyfish, allowing the sun through to my cheeks. And it matched the air in my lungs and the space in my heart as it relaxed into friendship or tensed into desire as I watched you walking towards me,
cautious of the equilibrium that hung like thin ice, guarding the possibility of your long limbs against mine from the surrounding shatter.
I felt very normal, because you were looking at me this way. Apologising for the serpentine evening and centrifugal plans outlined drunkenly on the telephone as I sat strumming the guitar on your soft bed, wondering about the computers under the light blue covers, but mostly
coming back to the red lamp shedding too strong a light for the liquid kiss I wanted to put on your lips.
He said water and I said water,
But he took the early evening because I took the morning
And when I swam in the aluminium pool I held my breath, and in the
liquid silence I stared at the sky confusing the surface and thought of
him.
We were sitting in the courtyard under the much brighter stars. Alcohol had left you like a light fog lifts and you were staring at the blond girls, thinking of Paris and your home and someone in your bed, calling for drinks to get mashed until early morning and it all started again, but different.
I think I know what you are looking for. To make a cut in the surface of the quotidian that will let life slide in. You look for it like that, through hunger and un-owned flats, fish heads and the warmth of your best friend’s body on a narrow mattress on the floor, alcohol until the morning and endless playing on a battered guitar.
But then there are the sweet drunken girls, harpooned and dotting your bed like moths, vanishing in the mornings with hazy eyes and the hopes of a boyfriend. There’s the computer squaring the room categorically, and the unfinished songs as many attempts to slice into the sweltering heart of life that ricochete and retreat meekly just as they graze the surface. Back to the warmth of the sun and the sweet drunken girls like restless birds.
Are you in love?
He doesn’t love me but he cut through my surface like the skin of a
fish and exposed my humid heart and its raucous daydreams that
walk my mind miles while the sun draws shadows of trees on my
naked skin.
Swimming deep into the airless waters of my mind.
The fish we would catch.
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5. |
I see you
03:37
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I see you coming in, I hear you and the water's song
I see you sitting down, you're reading and the radio's on
Dark blue carpets and quiet music and flowers, all over
the bedroom and curtains on the table, the flowers, they speak to you
I know you love them
but your life's been long already,
I get that you want to go.
I know you love them
but it's been so long already,
I get that you want to go.
I see you smiling up, your eyes green like the chestnut tree,
your crown of silver hair, still streaked with red after all these years.
I know you love them
but your life's been long already
I get that you want to go.
We'll be orphaned,
but it's been so long already
I get that you want to go.
Your life's been long already and
loving is letting go.
I see you.
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Blumi Paris, France
Blumi is a Franco-English singer songwriter and musician based in Paris. After a first solo EP released in 2021, Blumi
released her second opus, "there is no end in me." at the end of 2022. Her music reflects hers influences and admirations - from folk to musique concrète, through folktronica and R’n’B.
linktr.ee/blumihere
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