1. |
A Hundred Sundays
03:21
|
|||
A Hundred Sundays
Wake everyday
Thinking sadness is a gift
I dangle from trees
To give myself a lift
There’s a tunnel-end
But I wander heavy-hung
Reach the cycle ring
Remember how to run
Waited for the day
Now I miss the moon
My monochrome December
Had not a tint or hue
My eyes tried a lie
And my tears withdrew
Despite a trick of light
I miss them over you
I was going to write you
About the year
A hundred Sundays ago
But I found a way out
Does anybody ever really
Write anymore?
I can only compose
A love song
When the clouds discover the sun
Together for a time
Put your hand in mine
So I can let it go
Lost in a pendulum
Without a bit of swing
An uphill composition
No soul to sing
This tick-tock convention
I’m hiding in between
Hits of inspiration
I miss you endlessly
Two years draw near
How I stood by
Held on so long
Drawn out goodbye
I was going to write you
About the year
A hundred Sundays ago
But I found a way out
Does anybody ever really
Fall in love anymore?
I can only compose
A love song
When the clouds discover the sun
Together for a time
Put your hand in mine
So I can let it go
|
||||
2. |
Archaeology
02:55
|
|||
Archeology
A non-dreadnought
Holyhead to Dublin
Fought modern thoughts
Lost, assailing nothing
On an eavesdrop
I donned my assumptions
Of gone fodder talk
A song in the discussion:
How do five-pint passengers
Stay three-sheets devout?
They consecrate their sins
Before they cast them out
Can all your sneaky feelings
Stay stranded out at sea?
Abandon your allegiance
Absolve your memories
A cadence in the waves
Beat out my reverie there
The pulse of your heart
Is “A chuisle, mo chroi” here
A nautical call
Hypnotic salvation
The pulse of my heart
Waves of variation
The passengers sang something
confounded by Babel:
“You were near the ocean
The day the towers fell.”
It was sixteen years deep
Underneath the sea
Unfathomed things
Charted out for me
It was sixteen years deep
Underneath the sea
Now what will I do
With all that I believe?
|
||||
3. |
The Heretic
03:01
|
|||
The Heretic
They said my head was full of stuff
And my soul was trapped in brands
Impromptu archive cluttered up
Second-guessing secondhand
What I can’t sell and I can’t keep
Heirloom worthy. I feel torn
Folderol? A worthy cause?
Why do I feel cause to mourn?
Cellar full of cabinet clatter
Attic ladder can barely close
How little things seem to matter
Once it’s time to let them go
The things I thought I could repair
Are things I just prolong
Bequeathed to me from mender friends
Beholden to hold on
Photo album firmament
Or chromatic shutter speed
Faces on my fingertips
Resin polyester green.
Sentimental spread and scatter
Old worn storage in repose
How little things seem to matter
Once it’s time let them go
Cellar full of cabinet clatter
Attic ladder can barely close
How little things seem to matter
Once it’s time let them go
|
An Overnight Low Portland, Maine
The music of An Overnight Low is based on a journey, one that has inspired a series of travel-themed albums. The songs have been divided into four studio albums, each named after one of the three train stations he frequented most: Euston (2014), Piccadilly (2015), Waverley (2017), Connolly, Part One (2020), Connolly, Part Two (2021), and Holyhead (2023). ... more
Streaming and Download help
If you like An Overnight Low, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp