How You Did That To Me

You'll Be Happy In St. John's

Kissing On A Lawn

I Am My Own Ghost

Watery Blue

I Can Do That Too

Cicada

I will speak with broken words,
and I will sing until it hurts,
and I won't let this meaning die in me.

Stasis is an illusion here,
the shifting of the signs appear
and call us back to re-assess the night.

I've given up on language, then,
the call response and take and send,
so arbitrary, cold, and warm, and free.

There's so much to life outside,
the boundaries and categories,
I feel the need to sing, to call, to crow.

So I will speak with broken words,
and I will sing until it hurts, and
I won't let this meaning die in me.

I will speak with terse remarks,
and I will sing until it hurts, and
I won't let these meanings die in me.
credits
from The Captain's Son, released 16 March 2012 

Broken Words

I'm young, but not for long.
I'm free, but there are boundaries.
I'm young, but not for long, no.

I'm young but not for long.
I'm free, but there are boundaries.
I'm young, but not for long, oh no.

I've seen an open field,
street lights and empty cities.
I've counted on everyone I know.

I've seen an endless sky,
dead dreams and floating memories.
I've given up on everyone I know.

I've seen that colored keep,
windmills, pastoral sunrise.
That's where my mind is bound to go.

I'm young, but not for long.
I'm free, but there are boundaries.
I'm young, but not for long, no.

I'm young but not for long.
I'm free, but there are boundaries.
I'm young, but not for long, oh no.
credits
from The Captain's Son, released 16 March 2012 

I'm Young (But Not for Long)

Please download and enjoy. Distribute freely. Purchase if you really love it. 
(danwlawrence.bandcamp.com)

My brothers fled the Peninsula
and fell off of the Earth.
I remain the guardian
of the quiet wintry north.

This is a place I can call my own:
Houghton city lights.
My Elm Street refuge on the hill,
'cross the Portage Lake at night.

Winter's almost over now...

The hallowed woods, the country of the gods
They call to me to sheath the copper sword.
The ancients here have mined the spirits dry.
This humble village can withstand the test of time.

The archer's bow, the anagram
and postmodernity:
I know my time is measured sharp.
And we're all measured deep.

The Copper Sword

This is a homemade demo from the upcoming 2013 pseudo-philosophical folk album, "I am my own ghost." 

Technical: Recorded using a Blue "Spark" microphone through a Lexicon Lambda USB interface to a Cubase LE 5 digital audio workstation (DAW). 


Chords: C-Am-F-G fingerpicked unrelative to capo (open)
Transposed chords: Ab-Fm-C#-Eb


Lyrics:

Four dead dogs
buried in her old backyard
about an hour’s drive
from Pictured Rocks

Their bones washed away
in the springtime flood
at least we got our summer in March

They had no time to ask
“What happens we die?”
They just up and left,
into the rings of time.

Four dead dogs
buried in her old backyard
I laid ‘em down in July
side by side…

From the stars I came
and there I’ll die
blood and carbon bonds,
and the world I want

forgot our sacred songs
wrote no human book
left us alone with old Euripedes

there are no ghosts in the sky
on houghton hill
just tombs in the ground
with nothing inside

And as we move through time
try to fill this void
I sing with mountain gods
on mountain tops 

Four dead dogs
buried in her old backyard
I laid ‘em down in July
side by side

Four dead dogs
buried in her old backyard
but them old bones
found their way back home..


Dan Loredo