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Farewell E​.​P.

by beacons

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1.
Slipstreams 07:07
Shores of sand they fill my feet that beat upon the ground. I walk on palaces of dunes that ring with floating sounds. A sandaled stride through desert psalms and mirages of oases. I run through fire and rising glass in secret thoughts and fantasies. I feel it writhing in the sun. Following the stars that blink and billow in the night. I am smoke and windblown ash and whirling winds that blot the light. I burn like bullets that melt into wax beneath the minarets. I offer myself to the sand and all its myriad epiphets. I feel it writhing in the sun. Here it comes crawling in the sun. Floating sounds of strings and prayers they trace their slipstreams back to me. Lost in a storm of fury adrift on a sandy sea. Desert swans in thirsty skies singing songs on absent breeze. Ancient lands of endless sand they fill my burning feet. I am the sun that beats I am the heart of the heat.
2.
Fata Morgana 03:47
Near east and west shall meet no redemptive destiny. Like ebony and ivory the sons of Abraham compete. Far off in the desert land man killing his fellow man. Blame the holy guiding hand got me shaking my head goddamn. A pressure felt across the land. With their holy books in hand.
3.
Living with time in the back of your mind moving through the salt and surf. Drifting on fault lines of reason and rhyme when you circle the earth. Watching the tide on the long mountainside with nodding sighs. Rolling through brine out of space out of sight of leering eyes. Falling through the needle's eye. Oh I, oh I. Touching the keys of the whispered divine. Oh I, oh I. There's the loosing of fire from the brand in the briar of warring climes. There's the wither of the lyre as the elements tire in worlds unkind. But I look to you and the world is alive on the long mountainside. Catching the wind and on its back we ride toward the sky. Falling through the needle of your eyes. Oh I, oh I. Touching your skin to feel the warmth of your sighs. Oh I, oh I.
4.
Eleven Doors 04:19
I picked apart the buds of May with silent wish, with salt and spray from ports of call on sunset days. Spectrum's sere with scripted shrouds eleven doors, for heavens crowds a floating sphere of ringing sounds. So spill your fictions down the drain and I will swill your diction til' the storm rain paints our shadows still the storm rain paints our shadows still. Come on now baby, bring me the thunder in a cauldron small summon up the dredges of a churning old earth with a staff of bone and pagan calls. When all the seasons lie in state and darkness falls when hours grow late. When all your fictions billow forth and drown the sun, the south and the north. When all is quiet on the span the task is plainly clear. To these silent scenes we sing a song of suffering sound. When words surrender sense to dust and wisdom falls to serpents' trust. We sing this song of suffering sound we sing this song of suffering sound.
5.

about

credits

released July 19, 2013

Dan Abbott - Bass Guitar / Vocals
Joel Hughes - Percussion
Matt McCracken - Guitar / Backing Vocals
Dafydd Reeves - Vocals

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beacons Ceredigion, UK

Raise the wind; sow the whirl; shake off the old humid earth.

MMcC, DA, AJH

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