1. |
Bridges
02:58
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Something about the crossing
The cold steel bright
The wincing sun, how it cracks
My memory’s ice
I’d almost forgotten
What you said to me that night
How I should remember
The origins of light
Tell me, was it you I heard
In the chopping waves
Were you that little bird
That told me to be brave
I am not my master
Not equal to the task
The currents moving faster
Through the harbors of my past
Something in the night sky
The sweep and twitch of time
Had to keep on walking
The highways of my mind
Perhaps when I am sleeping
The twisted route unwinds
What I’ve done unspooling
The details of my crimes
Tell me, was it you I heard
In the chopping of the waves
Were you that little bird
That told me to be brave
I’d almost forgotten
What you told me that night
How I should remember
The origins of light
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2. |
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Mercury, Oh, Mercury
Take some time and listen to me
Mercury, Oh Mercury
Sit for a spell, I think you’ll see
Forget your words, forget your mace
Fists just inches from our face
You’ll never hit us, that’s your promise
Said you’ll pummel the space between us.
No more time for winning streaks.
No more cards to stack the deck
ship has sprung another leak
Yet you place another bet
Split the difference, split the gains
Can you look us in the eyes
Have you forgotten all our names
Do you think there’s still a prize
Lay your diamonds on the table
Tie your hands behind your back
Close your eyes now if you’re able
The world is dreaming way too fast
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3. |
The Blue Guitar
05:19
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She sang beyond the genius of the sea
It was not a mask, no more was she
We were all just snow falling on the ocean
She blew apart our every notion
Now we’re searching for the woman with the blue guitar
Now we’re searching for the woman with the blue guitar
She must be somewhere out there on a distant star
She must be somewhere out there on a distant star
She sang of ourselves and of our origins
Bronze shadows heaped on high horizons
Old tales that spoke to us somehow
Lined up like blackbirds on the bow
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The very ocean singing word for word
But she was the maker of the song she sang
Of emblazoned zones and firey poles she raged
Now we’re searching for the woman with the blue guitar
Now we’re searching for the woman with the blue guitar
She must be somewhere out there on a distant star
She must be somewhere out there on a distant star
She brought to life the heaving speech of air
Mute skies mountains of atmosphere
Words of fragrant portals dimly starred
She left behind a world forever scarred
Now we’re searching for the woman with the blue guitar
Now we’re searching for the woman with the blue guitar
She must be somewhere out there on a distant star
She must be somewhere out there on a distant star
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4. |
Too Much Sky
03:54
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Got a daughter down in New Orleans
Calls me every Sunday night
Tells me how she’s living the dream
Wanna tell her and someday I might
I’ve got too much sky in my head
I’ve got too much sky in my head
I’ve got too much sky in my head
It’s no wonder that the Earth feels dead
It’s no wonder that the Earth feels dead
Found a room at the edge of town
A longer walk to the local bars
Sometimes lost is better than found
Sometimes the door is just too far
Left my wife back in ‘86
Thought I’d work some troubles out
Another one of my stupid tricks
All I found was deeper doubts
I’ve got too much sky in my head
I’ve got too much sky in my head
I’ve got too much sky in my head
It’s no wonder that the Earth feels dead
It’s no wonder that the Earth feels dead
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5. |
The Prisoner's Song
03:39
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Oh, I wish I had someone to love me
Someone to call me their own
Oh, I wish I had someone to live with
Cause I'm tired of living alone
Oh, please meet me tonight in the moonlight
Please meet me tonight all alone
For I have a sad story to tell you
It's a story that's never been told
I'll be carried to the new jail tomorrow
Leaving my poor darling alone
With the cold prison bars all around me
And my head on a pillow of stone
Now I have a grand ship on the ocean
All mounted with silver and gold
And be-fore my poor darling would suffer
Oh that ship would be anchored and sold
Now if I had wings like an angel
Over these prison walls I'd fly
And I'd fly to the arms of my poor darling
And there I'd be willing to die
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Forest Route New Hampshire
Forest Route is a collective of artists from New Hampshire and Maine. Our cup of tea is to pass original music through a varied filter of historic styles. Each Forest Route project is guided to a greater or lesser extent by producer/composer/arranger/lover of pastiche, Chris Côté. We aren't a record label. We don't sign artists. We're artists ourselves, making the things we love to make, together. ... more
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