my baby has a swollen face
long stiff limbs
them eyes are black pits
of a place where I've been
her hair is long
still smells like mud
she answered to my kiss
with a rotten tongue

no death can
tear us apart

her body is cold
well it's gonna get colder
but my love will ignite
what was left to smoulder
I move my hips
in her I am home
I'll keep on loving
'till the marrow dries from her bones

no death can
tear us apart

taken from her selftitled debut, all music and words by Mirel Wagner
(p) 2011 Mirel Wagner, Kioski (Finland)
(c) 2011 Bone Voyage Recordings

http://www.BoneVoyageRecordings.com
album out now in Europe through Bone Voyage Recordings.
US release through Friendly Fire Recordings, March 27.2012

summer 2014 will see the release of her sophomore album, worldwide via Sub Pop Records 

Mirel Wagner

Mirel Wagner - No Death

Kandle - Not Up To Me

LYRIC 
feeling your senses
seed to a lemon
willow bending 
nature keeps on  growing 


picket white fences
care and attention
growing tending
reaping  what your sowing

CHORUS 
In the name of the bee
And of the butterfly
the gentle  breezes
Amen.
In the name of the trees
And of the time  that goes by
And as  heat follows freezes ( Amen )
the garden keeps on 
living and dying
breathing defying
 the changing weather
flowers mark  seasons

friends for a reason
beginning ending
life  follows  its cycles
fragrance they're sweeter

then bitter  and healing
we keep on wending
following the  spirals

From part poem by Emily Dickinson "In the name of the bee,
And of the butterfly,
And of the breeze, amen!"

week 159 – Garden ( Amen ) Acapella

Leonard Cohen - Avalanche

Gemma Hayes - Palomino - taken from the Album BONES + LONGING 

Link to the album - http://smarturl.it/BonesandLonging

06 Palomino

After "Theater Island," last year's 6-track EP, Sóley returns with her first full-length, an album full of rhythmic makeshift creatures, of handclaps hidden in the undergrowth, tempting us to join in. The 13 tracks are sometimes incredibly catchy; amazingly quirky at other times: think cardigan-folk from the northern hemisphere, an ocean of stained glasses bopping up and down in the shared apartment's dishwater, leeward in limbo. The result is refreshing in its lack of edginess; think Joanna Newsom minus her harp, or the Casady sisters circa 2004, but then clearly better trained, less crooked. In other words: her voice, those loops moving around like wooden toys, and finally the piano – that's the backbone, the essence of her compositions; at least until some unexpected element appears elsewhere, a rhythmic creaking or the lack thereof, like a hidden Rube Goldberg machine, setting off yet another component, thus paving the way across the threshold and on into the next realm of sound. And thus we keep on sinking, deeper and deeper, until we stand on terra firma once again, realizing that somehow, next to us, above us, around us, a beat is laid out, hesitantly moving along at first, then careering… 

1

Cecile Beaudelique