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Groans And Greetings
06:51
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groans and greetings
its now the hour for being sincere, the hour for groans without love, the last hour before the big silence, step out of your clothes flesh and bones, puke up your sick hearts, with groans and greetings amigos, so watch out for those will stuffed with seeds and unpublished landscapes, blossom and tear out your blossoms anew, unspeakably dressed, hope flesh bones, with groans and greetings amigos, in front of the sea, and in front of the wind be always alive, be eternally dying, when we die we’ll take with us a series of shots of the sky , and they’ve told me that dead we don’t have any memories, as the sky in midsummer, a black sky shining up by the wind, sure enough you’ve got two big boobs and a string of pearls on your neck , a child of the mist holds your mirror, though you’re very far off I still see you, placing a hand like a rainbow’s over your sex or lazily punching the sky into shape like a pillow, looking at you through a lens the renaissance of me
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2. |
100 Horsemen
03:50
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a hundred horsemen in mourning, where will they go, under the recumbent sky of the orange grove, they will never get to granada by the sea, sleepy horses carry them so where will they go, whenever i die bury me with my guitar, a labyrinth of crosses where the song trembles, pierced by the seven eyes where will they go, one hundred andalusian horsemen of the orange grove, whenever i die bury me with my guitar, beneath the sand among orange trees and mint, bury me if you wish in a weathervane, whenever i die, our lady moon still hidden playing ring around the wheel, makes herself look silly at the loony moon, a hundred horsemen in mourning , where will they go, under the recumbent sky of the orange grove, to the labyrinth of crosses where the song trembles, one hundred andalusian horsemen of the orange grove, whenever i die, bury me with my guitar
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3. |
Stars Made Of Water
04:14
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the sea wants to blow its lid, coral giants heave with their shoulders, and in their gold caverns the sirens try out a song that the water can sleep to, i stare at the stars that are over the ocean, oh stars made of water, i stare at the stars that are over my heart, the drum is the heart of the fair, a shriveled up heart that beats like the heart of a boy, the drum has the whiteness of parchment and that summery night a thousand black butterflies follow its heat, i stare at the stars that are over the ocean, oh stars made of water, i stare at the stars filled with shadows, the drum our nostalgia for roads, it’s the sound of the clouds in the sky and infinite distance
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in the night of the garden, in the night of the garden, six gypsy women dance in white crowned with paper roses and jasmine, neither you nor i are ready to meet, you, well, you know why i have loved her so much, follow that path, i have holes in my hands from the nails, in the night of the garden, in the night of the garden, their teeth mother of pearl inscribe the burned darkness, the shadows grow long and purple as they reach the sky, can’t you see how i’m losing my blood, don’t ever look back go so slowly, pray like me to san gayetano for neither you nor i are ready to meet, twenty four times they hit me, twenty five times in all, later that night my mother will wrap me in silver foil, oh civil guard of the roadways send me a sip of water, water with fish and ships, water, water, water, water, on commander of the ivil guard you up alone in your room, there will never be enough silk handkerchiefs to wipe my face, in the night of the garden, in the night of the garden, seis gitanas , bastido de blanco bailan, coronadas con rosas de papel y biznaga, neither you nor i are ready to meet, you, well, you know why i have loved her so much, can’t you see how i’m losing my blood, don’t ever look back go so slowly, in the night of the garden, in the night of the garden
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Don Campau
Don Campau is a home recording musician, radio producer and visual artist living in Northern California. Don has been active in home recorded music since 1969 and runs the Lonely Whistle label. For full bio go to doncampau.com
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