In the morning
At the wake,
Where the eyes become opened
Somebody its saying "I wait the night" to these midnight dreams.
In the set up,
Througt the window
At the visit of first lights
Nobody meet the face or figure of reason hiding into the sheets.
Now
Nobody prepare coffe to hold lively any fire.
Somebody its washing their sins in vinegar.
Nobody its brushing the words to hold kindness.
Somebody choose the colour to wear their daily emotions.
& Now
Some people go out and watch their feets while walk to somewhere.
Early morning happening so lonely and so slowly, most distant than the mileage.
Ladies and gentleman on roadpaths are searching coins over the garden floor.
The clock marks the puntual ten, at that hour the eleven are the seven with a little bit of imagination.
& Now
Nobody tell "good morning" to hold winds of happiness.
Somebody wonder about marvelous leap year memories of anyone.
The chat messages are telling how someone was converted in silence.
How words cannot works.
For the phantoms.
Nobody its screaming "I adore you" at the sea.
Somebody whisper secretly about what think while watch the trees.
How words cannot works.
For the mornings.
Yet.
Into the noisy city sounds
At the end of A.M.
Moments before the meridian
Nobody meet the face or figure of reason hiding among the shade of streets.
Delicately constructed free jazz that reveals its details slowly, gradually unfolding to reveal beautifully considered compositions. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 5, 2023
On this harmonically rich LP, the Scottish singer-songwriter contrasts gorgeous soprano harmonies with strident folk-rock instrumentation. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 26, 2023