1. |
One Day At A Time
03:44
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One Day At A Time
Whenever I tried, I tried my hardest,
Whenever I promised you, I gave my word without an alibi,
Whenever I told you I'd never again, I meant it, every word.
Whenever I rose with a fear in my heart without recollection,
Whenever I told you I've been so sick and tired of being so sick and tired,
Whenever I cried changing sheets in the morning
I meant it, every word.
Whenever I was home, the more you were alone,
I paid the price and I'll try to love you one day at a time.
I know I've caused you pain but every day I'll try to make amends,
I paid my price and I'll try to love you one day at a time.
Now that I know that in order to win, I have to remember,
Now that I know that in order to grow I have to let it go,
Now that I know where the first one will take me,
I've been powerless.
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2. |
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Silent Drums
With the last kiss of summer on the lips of the year
The dogs lie still, the clock chimes twelve and I fear
That I'll lose myself, my hands are tied and bound,
But I know now is happening.
Have I lived my life with no lessons learnt at all,
and did I miss the starting gun I don't know,
In the anti-sceptic when the light shines in,
I know now is happening.
From the corner of the western isles to the peak of the antipodes,
We are marching to the silent drums,
Listen can you hear them?
The dew laced cobwebs decorate the fresh day in the frail dawn
And the long dark nights and the chimneys rise with the news of the season.
All our endless numbered days in a melody, lover do you believe?
From the sun rising in the east to the dawn across the Hebrides, we are marching to the silent drums, listen!
From the corner of the western isles to the peak of the antipodes,
We are marching to the silent drums,
Listen can you hear them?
Oh my love, save my soul 'cause now is happening.
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3. |
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True Ways Of Knowing
Not an ounce excessive, not an inch too little,
Our easy reciprocations. You let me know
The way a boat would feel, if it could feel,
The intimate support of water.
The news you bring me has been news forever,
So that I understand what a stone would say
If only a stone could speak. Is it sad a grassblade
Can't know how it is lovely?
Is it sad that you can't know, except by hearsay
(My gossiping failing words) that you are the way
A water is that can clench its palm and crumple
A boat's confiding timbers?
But that's excessive, and too little. Knowing
The way a circle would describe its roundness,
We touch two selves and feel, complete and gentle,
The intimate support of being.
The way that flight would feel a bird flying
(If it could feel) is the way a space that's in
A stone that's in water would know itself
If it had our way of knowing.
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4. |
Edina - Hiatus Remix
04:43
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Edina
I often think about the nights,
the times before I learnt that all my days have got a number.
Chasing all the girls up Lilyhill, bare-chested in the rain.
The green and white on a Saturday, birling through the turnstiles and singing all the way down Easter Road.
Would you forgive me, what do you say, Edina?
I've been listening for the van, counting change from out my pocket for an ice-cream from the man,
I've been skinnin' all my knees, running from the polis, hide and seek along Great Junction Street.
I always felt this awful shame, coming from a scheme, and I never took my education,
would you forgive me, what do you say, Edina?
I will never grow, never will I grow so old again
Everywhere I've been, everywhere I go I hold your sorrow in my bones
Even though I said, even though I swore I'm never coming home, I know
Would you forgive me, what do you say?
I've am whistling in the dark, I've been trying to hold a candle, I've been trying to change my feelings,
I've been crying in my sleep and when she wakes to gie me comfort I say I can't recall my sorrow.
I hold you to my breast, I've been keeping all your secrets, maybe one day you will release me,
Would you forgive me, what do you say, Edina?
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Blue Rose Code Liverpool, UK
Blue Rose Code is a band led by Edinburgh-born songwriter Ross Wilson. At the edge of contemporary alt-folk, Wilson's music evokes a meeting of Van Morrison and a young John Martyn, both shipwrecked with a bunch of Motown records.
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