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Last night I dreamed weâd found a stand of trees
framing a pond and a field in between.
And with a hammer and a blade and our four hands,
hereâs what we made.
The logs we peeled and stacked in a ring,
and then we crowned it, our tiny house, with tin.
And by the fire, flickering bronze and gold across your face,
I heard you say:
It may not be a grand parade of snow capped peaks,
no river silver-backed crashing through,
but we have our black-haired babes running free
through the woods.
Squirrels in the rafters, wrens in the eaves,
red dirt neath our nails, orange stains on our knees,
blackberries in June down the path without our shoes.
It may not be a grand parade of snow capped peaks,
no river silver-backed crashing through,
but we have our black-haired babes running free
through the woods
- Álbum:
- Lost Souls
- The Clearing
- Upper Air
- Danger At Sea
- Miscellaneous
- Hymns For a Dark Horse
- You Be My Heart
- Paste mPlayer #36
- BIRP! February 2012
- Dead Oceans Winter 2013 Sampler
- Daytrotter Session
- Rolling Stone: New Noises, Volume 90
- Musikexpress 139: Sounds Now!
- Long May You Run: 15 Tracks in the Key of Neil
- Dead Oceans 2008/2009 Sampler
- 34 Stars
- SXSW 2008 Showcasing Artists
- Dead Oceans Spring 2010 Sampler