Collected Animals

How did it get started? Thats a long train of
thought. Many different frames of mind could
have played in the musical. Alone in a field i
wonder how it is explained that a person
comes into the field of making sound and
putting it together.
Jumping in the void thats how it made me
feel. When the mouth would open up and
project the sound thats buzzing. Deep within
my chest is it my heart that makes the song?
When the breath wants to come up and the
note begins i start to feel much better.
And like the tumbling creek something makes
the song go on and they're people that
dissect and they're people who are
indifferent. We've sung out all the ages, our
sadness and our rage. i can hear the
mountains singing and i do believe they could
do that forever.
And some will be like The Tenors and put on
their suits and go on.
It was just wild wail but someone had to make
a map and it could have been a walk or I'm
remembering me dreaming. Whatever is the
case something put me on the trail or i saw it
on a wall, or maybe there's a page that talks
about The Tenors. Then you're in a group or
you're solo on the stage. Is your audience
the trees or do you crave to be a
professional? One thing I'd like to know is
does it always feel the same to be in the
grass and singing or to put on suits and be
just like The Tenors.
And some will be just like the tenors. And put
on their suits and go on.
Do you know how it feels and not what it
means? (this song)
Have you ever felt a thing and known thats
how you felt about it all along?

If someone told you that you would see an
image in a bog well you would think twice.
But why can't you just trust it?
People somewhere they pick their prices. Did
i pick mine? Its not much of a price its really
just a feeling. Sing.
Hey bog, whatcha showing?
just a little piece on thee you'll find it kind of
revealing
but i don't want to know.
I was 5 when i got rusty.
Hey bog, let me sink in
to the me i think i mean
little bits of everything are all that i know
I was 5 when i got rusty
14 when i first trusted (lost it)
been dreaming for a century
getting too far from gnomes.
Is it gonna be alright
when we get back home?
A drummer can fall apart
on any given night
there might even be a law
the clapping of the hands
Look at me once again
do i look different now?
escape into the moss
at the edge of town
everything had a frost
when the sun went down
a candle lit up the room
the shadow of your hands
beckoning i should stay
but i drifted off
slept with the big red moon
behind your curtain cloud
off to another day
i hope the earth gets rest
traveling after dawn
the changing of the land at light