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When I wake, I wake by the brook,
To an untamed thunder,
And the northern flicker flash about
as the soup in the sky grows thicker.
But I tip my cap and curtsy, and I take no offense
Because there is no hate in your darkest cloud, no ill intent.
Yet there is hate all around.
On its hind legs, rears this storm, and the pines bend from its wily sword.
Yet there is no war, no war,
No quarrel here at all.
And the deer shake in their hooves and shield their fawn.
And when the rain comes, the rain comes.
No judgement falls.
Yet there is hate all around.
There's a rusty prick in the tall grass,
Where the barbed wire waits for a blind horse in a gallop and its sealed and sudden fate.
There is hate in the grip of our human hands.
There is hate in the grip of our human hands.
There is hate in the grip of our human hands.
Yes, there is hate all around.
- Album:
- Lost Souls
- The Clearing
- Upper Air
- Danger At Sea
- Miscellaneous
- Hymns For a Dark Horse
- You Be My Heart
- Paste mPlayer #36
- BIRP! February 2012
- Dead Oceans Winter 2013 Sampler
- Daytrotter Session
- Rolling Stone: New Noises, Volume 90
- Musikexpress 139: Sounds Now!
- Long May You Run: 15 Tracks in the Key of Neil
- Dead Oceans 2008/2009 Sampler
- 34 Stars
- SXSW 2008 Showcasing Artists
- Dead Oceans Spring 2010 Sampler