1. |
co-op2
02:00
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2. |
Supposed
03:15
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3. |
ə
03:00
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If you could will it
All that you have
It's hard enough to steady yourself
All of the good things
That you're sure you have
Drifting in violence
Knocked against the ground
It's heavy and it's concrete
Thoughts come flying out
From under the rug
If you could of willed it
What you would of had
Is nothing more than all that is enough
If you could of willed it
What you would of had
Is nothing more than all that is enough
All of the bad days
Cannot get enough
It's hard enough when the weather's good
If you could of willed it
All that you'd of had
All of the sadness as it leaks out
Entrenched and sodden
Heaving under silt
Well every breath it is tough
Every breath well it is tough
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4. |
jadore
01:28
|
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5. |
The Thief and His Lover
01:29
|
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6. |
Aves Corren La Voz
02:21
|
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7. |
Euclid in Love
01:02
|
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8. |
Hanrahan
01:42
|
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9. |
Who the Files
00:56
|
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10. |
patch ADD dress
01:01
|
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11. |
NSSI
03:07
|
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There are twine
twisting inside
All hours of hurt
and time
Spent, Pent up, wresting vials
From
whitecoats. Knots you came
a-calling
Slice,
the sewingbox
scissors
The drifting
liquid, that which
Gave a moment's place
The place you came to
The place
Shuffled cards, awkwards, grimy
Moments grimaced to know
There are threads that connect
A cord, a chord,
a blade that shames gut wrenching
Methods and moments drifting
The luxury of burnt relief
A cable-cord, borrowed release
The time it chimes inside
The time it chimes inside
|
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12. |
Clour DAT
01:47
|
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field recording of cockle and oyster picking, manipulation and assemblage - snailsnail; PO-14 - Charles McDonald
|
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13. |
La Brière to La Rochelle
03:13
|
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Well you set it out on an autumn day
Let's eat out on the terrace
Well you set it out for me and my reflection
When the sun came through the autumn leaves
You came came round and fixed the stone
That made me make me break my bones`
And under the stone, beetles crawl
In the waterlogged land, drifting down between overgrown banks
In the waterlogged land, all the thought and memories
Take their, take their separate ways, drifting by waterways
Separate and murmurate
In the waterlogged land
What is all and under all, in stacks of papers
And under dark, the children's drawings can't
Be distinguished from, the tax returns and the benefit forms
The clicking of needles, wood moves over bone
Inside cold stone with lavender and damp
In the waterlogged land, pushing in your hand, feel the microbes a-moving
In the waterlogged land
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14. |
Praise
03:34
|
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There's an open tattoo
That's like looking in a hole
Looking at what's underneath.
What do you know,
Well what do you know?
It's better, unpreached.
An open tattoo, a window in.
I'm still full of praise
And there's nowhere for the praise to go.
Something old and dark, unhinged -
The wooden henge, the henge of oak
Makes it sad.
A territory, a vacant window
And a mist which covers
Empty land, undisclosed.
I'm still full of praise and
Nowhere for that praise to go,
Bursting at the seams you know.
It's bursting out of holes that rip,
Holes that can't be closed.
An open tattoo,
Looks like a wound,
Looking in a window.
I'm still full of praise you know and
I don't know.
Quite far away, away from home,
When the holy spirit came
The congregation in a post-war building,
Half the glass replaced, with uncoloured panes
Don't you know the upkeep alone.
Crippling dismay,
A vibration in the bones.
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15. |
extro
03:52
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