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lyrics

The silhouettes move but the light is the same
The horizon like dust on a mud road again
A farm in the city I built
With tools dull and stained
The trees in dark concrete
The light through the rain
The words I have ached for
The lives I have slain
For this life in the trenches
This silence I feel is my reign

Is it true what they say
Is it better that way
With the trees just a way to the top
Does the breeze push you forth
To wherever is worth
Or is it just a sigh to the world
It’s just another way of saying
I won’t be around

The blanket is warm
And the glass is a screen
Of feelings unheard of
And joy yet unseen
A farm in the city I built
A dollhouse I dream
The stars they look empty
My hands they feel numb
Silence a prelude to a scream yet to come
Cause if called on stage
You’d better have something to say

Is it true what they say
Is it better that way
With the trees just a way to the top
Does the breeze push you forth
To wherever is worth
Or is it just a sigh to the world
It’s just another way of saying
I won’t be around

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a Singer of Songs Barcelona

I sing songs in the bathroom. In packed and empty venues. In gardens, sheds and churches. Once in a weird Finnish gym and also in the oldest house in Switzerland. On a boat and in a bus and in a horse farm. In noisy Italian bars and spookily silent Belgian rooms. On my own and with people.
I sing songs and if you want, you can listen.
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