Includes individual hand crafted O-card, six panel cd insert, commemorative 12am guitar pick, and other surprises.
Includes unlimited streaming of a day in music: 12am
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 3 days
edition of 300
$25USDor more
about
Having already endured three failed open-water attempts between Cuba and Florida, Diana Nyad began a fourth attempt on August 18, 2012. Halfway to the finish line and forty-one hours later, a decision was made to end the swim early due in part to severe jellyfish stings and extreme weather; she was pulled out of the water at 12:55am.
lyrics
waters embrace
stars in the sky
echoes of dreams
fade through the night
knowing that it’s not enough
nothing left to lift you up
losing all the things you’ve won
closing in but now it’s gone
there is nothing left anymore
now begin to feel your boundaries, the limits on your living, oh this life, what a pittance, what a pity to be cloistered and divided from your vision, and how should you presume once subsumed, swallowed by fatigue, sorrow, drifted down several leagues toward oblivion, soul stretched, taut over several miles, several hours, but it’s over in the now
short of breath, though short of death, spent, every cent, every ruble, every blood shot sclera, every dilated pupil pointing clearly to a future unforeseen, not for me, pointing sternly to some dark eternity, give a smile, take a bow, give your crown to the clown, blow a kiss to your pal in the clouds, such is life, show your face to your fate, nothing more to be gained
in the absence of a goal can we grow in the chasm, in the void, is there meaning in the pause between the noise, when sucked into the deep on the amniotic precipice of sleep, what is seen, what is you, what is me, this flesh, this pulsing cage of meat, a torrent of blood, taken by a torrential flush, am I dry after giving so much to rise new from primordial sludge, to find peace with the origins of, to give lease to a brand new looking about, the wet mouth of an empty cup, a skull in which the buzzards buzz, some action of which nothing comes, is that enough?
Each song a reflection on a historical or literary/fictional event that happened within a certain hour of the day. Twelve songs, each exactly five minutes long.
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