Lyrics:

When my bones do arrive, there will be plenty to get us through winter again. And somewhere out in the cold, pushed down and trampled, an orchestra waits with a grin. But now, I want to be pure, so I won't let them win and I'll try to stay sober, but the wind won't carry me home on the backs of my brothers, they've blistered and wasted away.

Bones

There Are Narwhals In The Sky (Demo)

I motivate myself in random, frantic bursts that don’t often yield much more than frustration. Yesterday, I set a timer for 30 minutes and told myself to write some music, write some words and record it onto my phone all within that time period as a sort of exercise. I think I’m going to start doing this regulalry and see where it takes me. Anyhow, here are the interesting results of that first half hour under pressure.

Exercise #1

"One day I will find the right words and they will be simple."

Pomes

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