Maybe it was summer that stalled on the pillow of my cask of wine
But it wasn’t going to prison I didn’t like, it was getting out.
Because in a prisoners cell there is a strong medicine
That you take when you do get played
And you drink it down to the bottom of a well
So at least you don’t feel framed
There’s only two ways you can turn to an angel that stands at you side
And either way I’m going one way, and that is back inside
Because this old train has gone still on the tracks
And I don’t have any more coal to steam.
But I will walk on to the end of the line
So at least I don’t get framed
You can’t be somebody when you just might be somebody else
And if you see somebody, and they tell you that I am gone,
I’m just moving on
Maybe if we were the only two people left on the earth
I would know there was nowhere left to run, and nowhere to search
But as it goes, my compass is aglow like a bright star, or a web of roads
To be honest I don’t really know, but sometimes you just got to let go
You can’t be somebody when you just might be somebody else
I don’t mind hanging, but don’t hang me against the wall
Spare, mainly acoustic and ambient instrumentation wash around Brooke Singer's breathy ethereal vocals. If you're mad for Kate Bush, try this out. agutterfan
Sanguine but uplifting, the Toronto singer-songwriter's "transfigured" folk songs ponder existential themes with grace and wonder. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 21, 2023
A fascinating, appealing record no less “weird” than the rest of her oeuvre, but certainly the most weirdly versatile. Bandcamp Album of the Day Mar 25, 2022
Intimate and unique. This album plays well with a bottle of Syrah crunched up in your finest pair of headphones with candles lit in a steamy bubble bath. sig