Music

Reason to Love

We yell at people across the floor, till our voice breaks and we slam the door, building barriers to keep them from breaking in, we contort their words to lies till we feel justified

But the hated have no reason to love so pushing harder won’t bring change, softness is key to calling them in, out of the rain. It’s hard to love when you’re battered by winds of hate, love is needed most when you can’t find it.

The wind pushes the rain around in sheets, like ghosts of oceans. spindrift sprays off the waves hits me in the face, it’s hard to convince my body to move, I’ve already gone numb.

The rules have been made amphigoric and abhorrent impossible to understand, unless you have hours to spend pouring over the fine print of the stilted writings.

But a lack of open war doesn’t mean that there’s peace, when we have nowhere left to turn we take to the streets, politicians pay lip service to policies of change but they’re bought off till nothing comes of it.

The hated have no reason to love so pushing harder won’t bring change, softness is key to calling them in. It’s hard to love when you’re battered by winds of hate, love is needed most.

The hated have no reason to love so pushing harder won’t bring change, softness is key to calling them in, out of the rain. It’s hard to love when you’re battered by winds of hate, love is needed most when you can’t find it.

love is needed most when you can’t find it.

Breathe

Step outside get lost in the woods, wander until you can’t hear the rush, when you take a moment to sit with the trees, you can find the strength to breathe.

Take some time to speak to a tree and listen to what it needs care for it as it grows, water the roots and watch the leaves unfold.
It’s colours shift and change, and sometimes they grow muted and gray. But come springtime those branches will bloom again.

If you spend your whole life working every day climbing corporate ladders and collecting your pay your soul might feel empty so hold onto this truth, your worth is not tied to what you produce.

So step outside get lost in the woods, wander until you can’t hear the rush, when you take a moment to sit with the trees, you can find the strength to breathe

We’re nearing an end but will it be ours or can we release greed, will this be the point that we sink beneath, are we resigned to our end or can we find the strength to breathe again
We’re nearing an end but will it be ours or can we release greed, will this be the point that we sink beneath, are we resigned to our end or can we find the strength to breathe again
We’re nearing an end but will it be ours or can we release greed, will this be the point that we sink beneath, are we resigned to our end or can we find the strength to breathe again

Step outside get lost in the woods, wander until you can’t hear the rush, when you take a moment to sit with the trees, you can find the strength to breathe

Irish Washerwoman

Irish Washerwoman is a traditional Celtic tune written in the early 1700’s

Fireweed

The breath of the mountain blows through the trees, the passage of the pine Beatle, once so ugly to me. But now when I look at it and feel the air on my face, I see beauty in death, and learn to love again

Love again, can I learn how, love again, when hate and fear abound. Even if our trees die, that just means we need to try to love somehow

Storm clouds gather overhead and as the lightning touches down, those trees that once stood strong are bound to crumble now. A terrible horrible beautiful fire reaches for the sky and as I watch I realize that I’ve learned to love again.

Love again, come stand by me now, love again, face your fear and denounce. Even if our trees burn even if the clouds churn, we’ll love somehow

And as the smoke that once filled the sky sinks deep into the ground, new life springs up around me from the ashy mound, the first to call this wasteland home and bring beauty to the death, fireweed brings what once was gone, back around again

Love again, I can show you how. Love again, the hate we’ve held will come down. As the hope we’ve sewn becomes our own, our love is bound.
As the hope we’ve sewn becomes our own, our love is bound.

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