1. |
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Take me there…
To the site of our grand
Human failings
As we are set adrift
On a raft
Made of our bones
We are setting sail
As we are pulled
By the Ocean’s tide
They will not find us there
For we are already gone
Guide me there…
To the place where life
Has no meaning
As the wind blows through
These sails
Made of our hides
For they are unaware
That we are not to be found
They will not find us there
For our souls are not our own
Oh no…
Take me there…
To the site of our grand
Human failings
As we are set adrift
On a raft
Made of our bones
The seas are calm
As your hand
Is clasped in mine
They will not find us there
For we are already gone
My love
We will fly…
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2. |
Ada, Age of Eight
05:08
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Ada, age of eight
Fell asleep in the arms
Of an angel
Nestled within her wings
She dared
To soar through the sky
Those whom she would
Leave behind
Dared not look to the ground
For she is not there
Beneath her headstone
She is asleep in the arms…
Ada, age of eight
Is asleep in the arms
Of an angel
She longs not
For a safer place
As she is carried over the haze
She looks not to Highgate
Warm is she
In the arms of angel
Flowers will sprout
From her Father’s eyes
She is asleep in the arms…
(solo 1: T. Alvie)
(solo 2: A. Head)
Do you not see
that star
Blinking over the horizon?
I swear that I could see
Her smile
Forming within that constellation
And I swear that I can
Hear her laugh
Through the howling of the wind
She is not within Highgate
She is asleep in my arms…
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3. |
Bosun's Lament
06:07
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We judge our distance by the light of the moon
In prayer that dry land will be in sight soon
The crashing waves a grim reminder of our plight
As our vessel moves through the frigid night
Each of us is shackled to the rotting hull
We the condemned few…
…are rowing
We and our oars are one with the wind
To push our way through the howling din
The rain beats down upon our brows
With every heave our shackled arms will allow
Our feathers plucked from our very skulls
We, the damned crew…
…are crying
We are all tied to this foundering ship
As salt and spume pass through our lips
They pluck our feathers while we sleep
To fend off nightmares of the deep
We cannot soar like the gull
The ship itself…
…is moaning
We open our mouths to catch the rain
Our muscles wracked with aches and pain
We cannot look towards the light
Our sanity of flock of birds in flight
They pluck our feathers in the dead of night
We, the wayward souls…
…are mourning
The captain sneers,
“Dry Land, I fear, is far away.”
The captain sneers,
“Dry land, I fear, is far away.”
They pluck our feathers…
They pluck our feathers…
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4. |
For My Sweet Mary Thyme
06:31
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I cast off all of my worldly possessions
I throw them all into the sea
I let them be a boon for the vast oceans
I give it all
To my Sweet Mary Thyme
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5. |
Seaward
07:08
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Fiadh Productions New York, New York
𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔡, 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 & 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 🌲 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔠𝔲𝔢, 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 & 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔞𝔯𝔢 🐾
𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒻𝒶𝓈𝒸𝒾𝓈𝓉, 𝓋𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃, 𝒻𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓁𝑒-𝓇𝓊𝓃✨ 𝔣𝔦𝔞𝔡𝔥𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔲𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰@𝔤𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔩.𝔠𝔬𝔪
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