1. |
Remus: An Introduction
02:49
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2. |
Anthemoessa
04:20
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All we know we know by comparison and don't compare me to him.
With these metaphors twisting and turning and creeping underneath my skin.
The stories you've heard that I have told and retold
are simply the stories I've read
A similar simile rooted and taking shape within my heart or my head
Pin me down; An escapist at best, running from the life of the rest
My arrogance and quaking rage do surface on the best of days
So still the tremble in my chest
Honestly sincerity means more to me than pretty things
so kiss me with the virtues you posses
And if you find it fitting to drag me further from the harbour
Please promise then the wind to send me back
For though I ramble I'm afraid I'll never settle down
A month and I’m ready to leave
This itching in my toes of woes is pulling me where e’re it goes
and doesn’t seem to ever recede
My head is filled with story books;
the voyages of captain cook,
the troubadour and brooding sage,
the viscount and the magistrate
the lines I read and bury deep
the breaking of the wall in me
but others speak to try and calm
the waters with a simple balm
but a murderous wind filled my sails and drew me near to you
tell me will I make it through the loch?
As the sirens raise their voices, tie me tighter to the vessel
or else watch me throw myself upon the rocks
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3. |
The Way to the Past
02:44
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We are vicious when we hurry,
but hurry quick ‘cause this bridge won’t last.
You’ll be stuck there and I stuck starring.
Starring down at the tumbling stones.
Stone is the heart that I’ve been given—
stone and flesh, but the one’s usually winnin'.
We’re all battlefields of decision
and we find derision at every turn.
I said I’m not coming home and it broke your heart.
I broke my own shortly thereafter,
after I’d found that I’d lost my way.
The way to the future, the way to the past.
It’s hard to keep track of the things that last.
It’s hard to keep track of the things that last.
It's funny the things we cherish most,
'cause mostly I've found that they're barely ghosts.
The ghost of a dream that I'm still living
visits me when I close my eyes.
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4. |
Gypsy King (Aonghas)
03:17
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On my way through the east, I met Daniel and he
said that life could be found 'neath the bough of this tree.
So I traveled alone on the longest of roads;
I never came to the end but I came to my home.
There's a fire at my back there's a spark in my soul
that is keeping me moving and it is keeping me bold.
When my feet hit the ground they are swift to west
but quite where they are headed is a goal to be guessed.
I am the gypsy king,
I was born on the sea
with the crashing of thunder as the waves beat beneath.
All I have I can hold
but my tale should be told
with a glass pointed upwards and a fire for the cold.
The night's filled with songs telling fantastic tales
and the morning it is brighter when you're out on the trail.
I've got travel in my bones, music in my blood,
and the cold's not an issue; let it rain, let it flood.
Home's not a place; it's a state of the mind.
It's the people that we love, it's what I can't claim as mine.
I am restless sometimes, 'till I take stock of life
and I find I'm still living with my love still alive.
I am the gypsy king,
I was born on the sea
with the crashing of thunder as the waves beat beneath
all I have I can hold
but my tale should be told
with a glass pointed upwards and a fire for the cold
How could I say I am down on my luck
When the path laid before me is rising to touch
the souls of my shoes, and my heart may be bruised
but I'll sing 'till the morning, and I am done with the blues
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5. |
The Draughtsman
04:28
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I dreamed to be an draughtsman;
to build land to spans the streams.
Learned men of science, for guidance, did I seek.
But I failed I'm my searching
and I failed in my dream
So I left the men of learning
and I left my home town.
I came to ale house
unsure at what I'd found
I never learned to build bridges
but I learned to burn them down.
So I took to the road
and I took to the pen.
And I took the disposition
of the wild and rambling men.
I held my satchel loosely and left down the row,
for the one that’s alway moving will never be overthrown
My woman was an anchor
My woman was a lock.
She drew me to her window;
a stone with which to knock
So in my turn I beckoned her and we flew to the sea.
But is the tale that endeth kindly is the one that endeth me?
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6. |
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oh, I don't know where to go.
The road, it leads me farther from home.
Still I know I'm not on my own,
But how to leave the place I was born?
Leave, but leave some self behind
And look to it for them who've been kind.
A stone to mark the path pointing west
To guide you back when God bid thee rest.
Scotland keep me brave and bold.
I know that soon I'll start feeling old.
Sure, I know I'm not what I thought,
To win the war the battle was lost.
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The Duke of Norfolk Paris, France
The Duke of Norfolk is a peripatetic singer/songwriter from Oklahoma.
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