Crisp

by Apples with Moya

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1.
03:50
2.
02:37

credits

released June 22, 2017

Cam LaFlam // Vocals, Bass, Drums
Dylan Hanwright // Acoustic Guitar, Electric Guitar

Recorded, produced, and mixed by Dylan Hanwright at the Wormhole during winter and spring 2017.

Album artwork by Jean Frances MacInnes, 1916. From her book "Winter Fungi of the Apple."

Artist profile art by Alex Menne.

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Apples with Moya Seattle, Washington

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Track Name: Feeling #11
Walk in the dark along a cracked path of roots and moonlight
You tell a story, a piano player and her missing key
We rest at the edge of a clearing filled up by our hidden words
That night was carved in to the curve of my bones
Is this happening, happening, happening?

I should have been your voice tonight
Hear the plaster pound
When the love you gave in the cool of the glade
Won't come round

I should have been your wings tonight
No longer earthbound
When the love you gave in the cool of the glade
Won't come round

Ivory said "I seem to have lost my middle C"
She tore up the house and then herself for disturbing peace
Later she sat at her ebony bench with the cushioned top
Unable to play, she felt her audience
Slip away, slip away, slip away

I should have been your voice tonight
Hear the plaster pound
When the love you gave in the cool of the glade
Won't come round

I should have been your wings tonight
No longer earthbound
When the love you gave in the cool of the glade
Won't come round

Taking a holiday from your sounds, only mine
Under this bed of gold, I will rise, give it time
Track Name: Cherry Tree
Made my bed today with nobody watching me
Early morning relay, I'll take this small victory
Pop the Cabernet and eat from my cherry tree
After our bright soiree is the pit says Mallory

Circles in the sand
Berries disappearing half-sunken in land
The body wants all or nothing
The body shames its loving home

Taste the fruit in May, by fall who knows where I'll be
Sleeping in fields of hay or eyes lit with sorcery
Magic hours race to say: stay close to your cherry tree
Don't be fooled beneath its shade, sun lashes the balcony

Circles in the sand
Berries disappearing half-sunken in land
The body wants all or nothing
The body shames its loving home