We know, tonight, there's music somewhere,
and we just want to be there to hear it.
We've tired our heels out
from trying to stomp and sway ever near it.
But we would dance, we would dance, we would dance
if they'd let us near the light,
but they won't, so when we lift our feet,
it's as much an act of passion as of spite.
And we thank the holy ghost revival:
swinging lizards in red bandanas --
switchblade lipstick on polaroid,
lipstick remnants on sweaty chest --
fucking coked-out demons
right in front us kids.
We never knew what hit us,
but we knew it hit us.
It hit us in the hidden us.
We know that there's a curfew,
but we're gonna push.
We're gonna push.
I, myself, was pulled from the devil's vines
and I will return to dirt.
I must return to mush.
But there's enough night in us still
to tell all the lies we must tell, we must tell until
the drums come alive again
and the pit's maw yawns to draw us in
and we thank the holy ghost revival:
swinging lizards in red bandanas --
switchblade lipstick on polaroid,
lipstick remnants on sweaty chest --
fucking coked-out demons
right in front of us kids.
We never knew what hit us,
but we knew it hit us.
It hit us in the hidden us,
in the hidden us.
It hit us in the hidden us
and we fell to each other's knees.
We fell to each other's knees.
We watched the snake walk into oblivion
and we tried to arrange our beaks
to feed, to feed.
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024
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Folk artist Josienne Clarke revisits music from her back catalog, infusing these lonesome songs with a new luminosity and drive. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 18, 2023