1. |
Box-A-Bed
03:29
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The roof is peeling in the wind,
exposing the ceiling as weak and thin.
Kind of like shoe soles you put through too many agains,
burning bridges stood on through unforgiving ends.
With shelter blown astray, no cover for my head,
it's just another sign home might be dead.
Just left with walls to box a bed,
where we can lay, crack open our heads.
Here come all the legs,
just tired blood in a haze.
They run the days right off the page,
the months scream for mercy.
New york chokes the cold,
spring arrives in a hurry.
With shelter blown astray, no cover for my head,
it's just another sign home might be dead.
Just left with walls to box a bed,
where we can lay, crack open our heads.
Now planes can sew the coasts together,
but they're hesitant to mend,
it's string vs. leather.
Here I am at the mercy of the weather,
watching the rooftop depart.
With shelter blown astray, no cover for my head,
it's just another sign home might be dead.
Just left with walls to box a bed,
where we can lay, crack open our heads.
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2. |
Shapes and Seasons
04:40
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I can be afraid enough to stay up from black to white out.
Eyes wide, talking the night through its demise down.
Isn't that life, scared and horizon bound?
Pride lost to mountain lines, maybe found.
I think I'm saying something right,
but what if everybody's finding holes in me?
What if I am just a starry night?
'cause I got a lot of friends making wishes in me,
I carry their beliefs right in my belly,
If I lost their love, it would be so telling.
Life don't come easy in all shapes and seasons,
but I hope it has its reasons.
Spring came by to save the city from its blues,
girls in skirts, Brooklyn in a more romantic mood.
Even if the flowers never came, I'd still choose you,
when I'm out west, I still choose you.
All my old pals sleep in beds far from my sea,
the days we meet are so far between.
We're all off, eatin' foreign bread, being free.
Saving our years to share what we've seen.
Life don't come easy in all shapes and seasons,
but I hope it has its reasons.
Time is enough for me now.
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3. |
Rabbit
04:42
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The heart stares behind glasses,
mascara runs down all it's lashes.
It's with the eyes it clashes over who can see.
The whole body's at at war,
no limb knows the other anymore.
They'd all flee for unnamed islands,
were it not for the peace of the skin.
Walking toward with all this disconcert,
my blood, my stomach, it grows, it worsens.
I temper it like an angry sea held by a beach.
I take you in to rest your weary feet.
And I forgive the whole damn thing.
At a last meal for lovers,
I gave you poems I couldn't see in others.
You folded them like a rabbit's foot to carry for luck.
But that's all it was, a strange limb you could live without,
you could barely give a fuck.
All's now been buried,
by years of man-made memories.
It still stirs alive with a breeze to carry.
Sometimes I feel weighted by that dead,
but somehow it still makes me feel lucky.
And I forgive the whole damn thing.
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4. |
Women Speak
04:26
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Take me out, on a dark clear cloud.
Years pass and I'll fall through the ground.
Straight into a mound of women speak,
she hates her for taking him from she,
I've hardly room to speak.
So you hate her, she's the bane of your wingspan.
She's climbing your ribs, tapping at your cage,
you're a meek bird.
So you pen a word or two, just to heal some wounds.
A shallow grave, dug by a spoon.
Who's to blame you or me,
I've hardly room to speak.
I stand on a dish and I cut right open,
'til I am left in bone.
Sharp to stab around in a circle,
while the center ends up on a throne.
There's a mirror, layin low on its backside.
It's starin' straight up ahead, and opening the street wide.
If I punch through the ground, will there be sky?
A hole or reflection, I can't decide.
Oh why so hard to see?
I've hardly room to speak.
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5. |
Prelude
03:27
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Way up high, the whole world was caught in hanging lights,
and there were tears in your eyes.
Through a breeze, we climb back to its memory.
To the edge of a canyon by a lying sun.
Now in a dome of neon, we wander.
Down on the canyon floor, it's open sky,
but you are caught in visions of doors.
And my heart is wide,
but I will not put you before.
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Robin Bacior Portland, Oregon
Robin Bacior is a multi-instrumentalist and songwriter. Her work has received praise from NPR’s All Songs Considered, Vh1,
MTV, NYLON, L Magazine, CBS, Mother Jones Magazine, among other media platforms.
She is the recipient of a Regional Arts and Culture Council Grant, a nominee for the Independent Music Awards, and a member of the Recording Academy.
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