1. |
We Hardly Speak
02:59
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I’ll make do alone without you. I’m keeping busy falling through. When I felt your heat, you know I felt complete. But now we hardly speak, I wish that we could meet again.
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2. |
Foolish Travellers
05:13
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Towing shit through the sticks, living thin, barely eating food. You can try and convince yourself to put aside the mental health and prove: “I can lead a life like this. I can be indifferent. I'll do whatever suits, and no-one will oppose me."
Washed up cigarettes on the beach, another night beneath the trees. Wake up with the sun that's my new routine, another day without caffeine. Despite all this, the raving sick will take its toll how it sees fit. Desperate masochist, but what a day to feel alive!
What's the course least explored? I'm keeping track and taking score at night. Aimlessly float about, try to overcome the doubts of life. The further south this vehicles goes the more my fears begin to show until I am exposed as just another foolish traveller.
Washed up cigarettes on the beach, another night beneath the trees. Wake up with the sun that's my new routine, another day without caffeine. Despite all this, the raving sick will take its toll how it sees fit. Desperate masochist, but what a day to feel alive!
Washed up cigarettes on the beach, another song that I'll never complete. Wake up with the sun that's my new routine, another day in a rugged regime. Despite all this, the memories stick: the mountain love and the overpriced drinks. We feel enriched facing it, but what a day to feel alive!
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3. |
Goodbye Hobart
06:36
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Trace your fingers down the lines beneath my eyes near the same crowded beach by the old broken signs. Take some money from the car so we can start to pay off failing artists writing love songs in Hobart.
I guess that I really just never wanna leave. Drive back north just to say goodbye to all that I've seen.
Let your father know that she cared and she was there to guide her only child with the wisdom that she could spare. When my mothers gone as well I don’t think that I'll stand a chance all on my own with these useless, delicate hands.
I guess that I really just never wanna leave. Take that same boat over back to my depressing routine, back to the study and the 21st century scheme. At least all my friends are there and man, they've been good to me.
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4. |
Coda
02:06
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We left our run down bones when you moved away from home, but I tried to find brief comfort in your clothes. So tell me, I don’t know. Who's name to write in stone? Or what to call this stale, woeful poem?
Darling, I suppose another worn out month has passed us both. Lovely, I guess that’s how it goes. You found a humble purpose in your prose.
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James Reynold Newcastle, Australia
Peripheral Songs from the Hunter Valley, Australia.
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