1. |
so as to
04:20
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Hold my hand
in this dark room.
I promise you, dear,
I won’t ever move.
I’ll say it now
though I said it then,
“Into my arms,
I’ll let you in.”
Could you take me out
of this dark room
and into the light
of something new?
I said it once,
and I’ll say it again,
“Into my heart,
I’ll let you in.”
I call your name
from the riverbed.
You flow through me.
This skin, I shed.
If I dance funny,
will you smile big?
And if I remove my shoes,
would you let me in?
I see now
who I am
so as to
love again.
I am now
who I am
so as to
begin again.
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2. |
how high
04:41
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I wake in the treeline
Hold my breath as I climb high
Brushing the branches from my face
I see a deer bound across a Tennessee grave
And of all that I can see
Of you and me
Is counting time at your mother’s piano
How high were we then?
How high were we then?
You crash in the treeline
Lose your breath as they count time
And brush the branches from your face
The deer struck down by the low Hunter’s Moon
How high were you then?
How high were you then?
What did I expect to find
Off the side of sixty-five
But to turn back time to your mother’s piano
But that’s just something I tell myself
To keep my chest from heaving
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3. |
love
04:13
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Child, I’m sorry and afraid.
These words I’ve said so often.
But you, the twilight ‘pon my grave:
the only thing worth saving.
Oh, love.
Teacher, what is it you say?
Think not much of pleasure.
And you tightly hold my face.
Is your grace unmeasured?
Oh, love.
Father, I think now of your name
and see it spun in silver.
You come quiver at my gate.
In cold and shadow, find me.
Oh, love.
Mother, cry not over me.
Your wings won’t always shelter.
You, my honeysuckle, be
an end for endless sorrow.
Oh, love.
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4. |
call me out
07:48
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You call me up
to call me out.
Say I fucked up.
Say I let you down.
Can you build it right,
as it was in your heart,
while all that I am
is falling apart?
I bend my form
and stretch my hands,
so sings my body
in thoughtless dance.
You call me up
to call me out.
Say I fucked up.
Say I let you down.
As the trees fall
and cities burn,
I roll up a bill
forget all that I’ve learned.
When I go to sleep
in a net of jewels,
the sun creeps in
to my little room.
You call me up
to call me out.
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5. |
in it
04:00
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I crawl back to our bed in the dark.
Your arm’s milk-white in the moonlight, love.
I hear cries coming up from down the hall. Who?
God, I wish I had more love to give.
But if your heart’s not in it,
well, then your heart’s not in it.
And if you’re thinking of quittin’,
well, then you’re thinking of quittin’.
The dog’s chewed up your grandmother’s blanket through the kennel,
and every little thing in this house is covered in fur.
Pa, please won’t you play with me in the garden.
Son, you know I’ve got too much work left to do.
And if your heart’s not in it,
then your heart’s not in it.
And if you’re thinking of quittin’,
then you’re thinking of quittin’.
Wise river, old river.
Quick river, wide.
I raise my arm
in the dark of the night.
And if your heart’s not in it,
well, your heart’s not in it.
And if you’re thinking of quittin’,
well...
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6. |
so as to (reprise)
02:20
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I’ll say it now
though I said it then,
“Into my heart,
I’ll let you in.”
If I dance funny,
would you smile big?
And if I remove my shoes,
would you let me in?
I see now
who I am
so as to
understand
that as I drink the cup
and I look up… who?
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7. |
a world without pyramids
06:50
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I dreamt in fire
and long for that beyond fire
and saltpeter and prisms.
I don’t want to look back anymore
into the Tennessee clay.
Dragging Canoe under my fingernails.
Dragging Canoe under my boots.
Dragging Canoe under the brim of my hat.
Speak his name three times
and may it reveal.
My head’s in the bats
where the man in black
didn’t die.
If I could shine a little light on it
and undo what I think I know.
Come warm wind yawn.
Come soil and storm.
Come winter water drawn.
Come fire and flood.
And my daddy won’t talk to me
about pyramids or jewels.
If I could shine a little light on it
If I could shine a little light on it
But I don’t want to talk today,
just sleep like a stone.
From the mouth of Nickajack cave:
stolen stories, woven bone.
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Motes Los Angeles, California
Motes is an Ohio-born, Nashville-raised producer and songwriter working out of Los Angeles. He writes jazz-inspired rock music with a pop sensibility, exploring themes of love, loss, and myth.
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