I used to falter when I heard my name
As if those syllables sounded of shame
I used to let the darkest thoughts permeate my brain
Those darkest moments are from where the lightest part of me came
I used to wish the sky would swallow me
And spit me out in the Pacific Sea
Surrounded by a crowd and unaware of how to just be
A captive of my discontent until you set me free
Now the sun seems to follow us
But in my dreams the rain feeds my rust
Sometimes I still hide behind changing plans
I fear the encounter with who I am
There’s parts of me that neither one of us can understand
It’s in the way I hold my head and how I clench my hands
It’s a slow march, a wounded beat,
But I’ll get there if it bloodies my feet
At 23 nothing is set in stone
Sometimes I wish I had a sense of home
There was a time I thought I couldn’t be more alone
Now with your help I’m learning to make sense of the unknown
It’s all unknown and we’re anxiety prone
But our weakness is atoned from birth, to breath, to bone
It’s all unknown and we’re anxiety prone
But a radiant light has shone from birth, to breath, to bone
Irish singer-songwriter Oisin Leech's acoustic folk music is characterized by its muted beauty and intimate, solitary quality. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 16, 2024
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Singer-songwriter Henry Parker puts his own spin on the classic sounds of '60s and '70s British folk on this wilderness-inspired new LP. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 9, 2021
"Dustups" continues Body Surfer’s exploration of intimacy and personal history, rich acoustic folk deep in meaning. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 24, 2021