1. |
Spring
02:10
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Springtime is so hard on me;
It comes so slow and maddeningly
I toss and turn between my sheets
Just can’t sleep
Got thoughts to repeat
But I stand on a chair above my kitchen sink
(But I stand on a chair above my kitchen sink)
to catch the sun in a basement suite:
From where I stand
this must be perfect
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2. |
Old Habits
02:44
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I’ve had just enough change to fall into old habits
and I’m just enough gone to write them down
(rambling about love that’s always tragic)
as someone’s singing in my ear…
Are you lost, dear?
Are you lost, dear?
Are you lost, dear?
Cause you’ve been looking
into the windows of others
looking and trying to claim what’s mine
You’ve been looking
into the windows of others
(looking) and trying to take what’s mine
Well I swear I’m just looking for my memories
they don’t stay where I put them
I set ‘em down and they hide away…
So I’ve been looking
into the windows of others
looking and trying to find what’s mine
Looking
into the windows of others
looking for that piece of mind
Are you lost, dear?
Are you lost, dear?
Are you lost, dear?
Well I swear I’m just looking for my memories
(they don’t stay where I put them)
I set ‘em down and they hide away…
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3. |
Myth
02:52
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I know you from sepia-tones and little girl barrettes; or,
a mother’s collection of artifacts.
Most of your things are in an upstairs room
collecting grief and dust:
Strange material fingerprints.
I’ve got one of your necklaces
I wear it all the time
maybe it’s ransom
to bring you back some
My grandmother shows me
a lock of your hair and says
it’s all that was left and
I am 14, 14 (I am 14)
In Kindergarten we’re taught the alphabet
forwards and back around, but no one talks
about the void between Z and A
where people become myth
And the night before the Final
I swear I thought I saw your ghost,
but it was probably someone else in white nightclothes
walking down the stairs
walking down the stairs
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4. |
Prairie Skies
04:03
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I recall the taste of your mouth behind the church
day before moving day
And I remember sitting on the porch
waiting for you to say hello
and then goodbye.
I remember when the river was flooding
and my mother was so afraid I would drown
(just float away) on the tributary's rage
These prairie skies can't bid my bird bones stay
on gravel roads that are lined with young girls names:
the reddest grey.
Ooohs.
I recall the house that was haunted
all the times we'd go there to play
Now at 25 it's me who is haunted
(just floating away)
These prairie skies can't bid my bird bones stay
on gravel roads that are lined with young girls names:
the reddest grey.
Oooohs.
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Fern Saskatoon, Saskatchewan
“A dream that you’ll never want to wake up from.” –Razmataz Magazine
Fern is the folk
project of Saskatoon based artist Rachel Fowlie-Neufeld.
As a Prairie woman with lots of feelings, Fern finds her strength in poetic lyrics and understated arrangements that aim to get you right in the gut with songs about angst, love, and those weird thoughts that get stuck in your head right before bed.
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