Ok so this song is in the pov of a ghost- who was killed by their ex lover- and can see that he's got someone new he's gonna kill? 


just a headcanon- anyways this song is b a l l e r

I don't really know why, but this song reminds me of enola holms

how I interpret this song is like a toxic relationship that went on for too long since the "old ghost" woman kept trying to justify the man's actions, and shes hoping that the "new girl" will realize it sooner than her and break it off before lasting damage happens or maybe I'm trying to metaphor a song that's literally just murder idk

personal folk song list.

Canary In A Coal Mine

Waterfall

Rule #18 - Lion

a good song about bad compulsions. wrote this sucker in an hour and could not hold back to release it. think it works better in simplicity, anyway.

lyrics:

am i still good? am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i still good, am i still good?

please, make me good.

thirty-six
handwashes per day,
the thought hit head and then the foam.
skin so slick,
paper mâché, you'd
think i scrubbed down to the bone.

i'm not like that anymore.
i don't think...
... sometimes i still find myself by that sink, begging,

"am i still good? am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i still good, am i still good?
"please, make me good."

bedridden:
when he was mad,
i'd lock myself up in the attic,
all alone. crying,
"am i what he made of me? a body formed from selfish maladies?"

and he said he never meant it, he just needed me;
i shook his foul routine but i'm still turning in my sleep, praying,

"am i still good? am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i good, am i still good, am i still good?"

and it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, it is good, and it is good, and it is good.

Soap Prayers [August Demo]

A fox’s scream can eerily sound like a woman’s scream… why are there some who enjoy hunting them, then?
“Foxcry” explores the scary but real scenario that many feminine presenting folks face: others taking advantage of them, and finding pleasure in their pain. This song acts as a visceral callout to the “hunters” that revel in feminine suffering in a masturbatory way.

LYRICS:
He was a hunter boy-boy
Born with hunter arm-arms
Wringing geese necks
On his Papa’s farm-farm
He was a Mama’s boy-boy
He meant the woman no harm
Slinging pelts over his shoulder
But then he couldn’t shoot straight-straight
Something went wrong
He’d kill critters left and right but never pick ‘em up-up 
Hunter boy-boy to a hungry man-man 
Leaving Momma’s love leftover

You just love to see a woman suffer
When she cries you cup her face and say it’s to comfort
Come
As you slip your hands under your beltline
And use her tears to lubricate a good time
I can feel those eyes sinking into me
You hate it when I sing but you love it when I scream
I know why you shoot with your right hand free
Shoo, hunter boy, go skip your stones in a tree

And we foxes have a common phrase
If he can aim, he will shoot so scurry far away
But what about hunter boys, 
boys who play our game
Makin’ tiny cuts at fur until we’re not the same?

Well
We fair foxes learned to grit our teeth
If it’s screaming but not bleeding, then go back to sleep
In these woods, food is scarce, take what you keep
Be wary but don’t heed a hand that’s willing to feed 

You just love to see a woman suffer
When she cries you cup her face and say it’s to comfort
Come
As you slip your hands under your beltline
And use her tears to lubricate a good time
I can feel those eyes sinking into me
You hate it when I sing but you love it when I scream
I know why you shoot with your right hand free
Shoo, hunter boy, go skip your stones in a tree

There once was a hunter boy-boy
Taking part in hunter thing-things
Getting off to killing foxes ‘cause he liked their femme screams
And he’d say: it wasn’t my fault, fault, fault, was an archer’s paradox
Please still love me momma, momma, please still love me, momma
I didn’t mean to kill that fox

FOXCRY

FOXCRY (Dorm Demo)

Played by The Crane Wives...
Kate Pillsbury - Emilee Petersmark - Ben Zito - Dan Rickabus

featuring their friends…
Steven Leaf - Seth Bernard - Rachel Gorman
Savannah Buist - Katie Larson

Produced by The Crane Wives & Ian Gorman
Mixed by Ian Gorman
Engineered by Ian Gorman & Ben Zito
Recorded at La Luna Recording & Sound in Kalamazoo, Michigan
Mastered by Glenn Brown at GBP Studios in Lansing Michigan

Artwork by Rebecca Green
Album Design and Layout by Bill Chesney

Thank you to our loving families and dear friends, Ian & Rachel Gorman, Glenn Brown, Rebecca Green, The Accidentals, Seth Bernard & May Erlewine Bernard, Steve Leaf & the Ex Pats, Joey Schultz of Chickenbach, John Campos, Kris Kessel, Sean, Sarah & Arlo Lamborne, Tyler Rehm, 88.1 WYCE, Matt Jarrells, John Sinkevics at Local Spins, Emily Fox & Michigan Radio, Kevin Romeo & Rhino Media, Joey Basch, Josiah Barber, Amber Buist, Josh Gibson, Bill Chesney, Leah Pillsbury, Mark Sturr, Lindsay Lou & the Flatbellys, The Appleseed Collective, Joy & Tim Lago, Marianne & Jim Fischer, Carmen & Javier Vargas of Mi Pueblo in Kalamazoo and Edith the Kitty. Thank you to all of the people who have welcomed us into their homes, fed us a warm meal, or shared with us their stories. 

Special thanks to our PledgeMusic contributors. This album would not exist without the help of our fans! We are grateful for your support and humbled by your loyalty.

The Garden

Rough time of year
Does it get to you too
When it rains and it rains
And your shoes never dry

I stay inside with my
Veins full of glue
And I stick to a screen
Till my battery dies

I don’t need to be rich
Only so wealthy as to pay for my food
I don’t need to be huge
Only so big as to ever be noticed

Rough time of year
Do you sit through it too
With that envy so strong
That you can’t even move

I must confess
An embarrassing truth
Almost nothing can hurt me
Like thinking of you

You’ve got a beautiful home
Bestselling novel and effortless style
You enchant the people around you
They swoon when you show even the hint of a smile

Rough time of year
Does it darken the doors
To the lofty salons
Of the luminaries

I wouldn’t know
I wouldn’t know
I only know
Weeks of godawful overcast days
Abstinence from sun on the skin
Drifting deeper and deeper into quarantine
Until my own company begins to wear thin

Envy

Lyrics:

I’m burning wick to fingertip with sage
from my shaky-shakin hands
Millie, what have you done to me,
my friend?

I’m tossin’ turnin’ in an open grave
coined-tongued with whatever I can save,
carrying hauntings of a brand-new age—
Millie, can’t you see I slide
planchettes with my wake?

Catch me walking with the ghosts again
Must be on that double dose, depends
Roman chamomile all down the throat, lift hands
In Michigan, the lakes all darken
Blackbirds flocking to and fro, sevens
Roots drag marsh over the floor, levelin’
Millie, can’t you stop them? You slow no omens
like exhaling, it never ends

I’m coughing up elderberry on the stage
like your sacrificial lamb
Millie, hypnotize pain away, I beg

I’m whisper-hissing notes on every slate
that I scribe and toss into the hungry waves
carrying itchings for a familiar ache
Millie, can’t you see I made a walking stick out of my stake?

Catch me walking with the ghosts again
Must be on that double dose, depends
Roman chamomile all down the throat, lift hands
In Michigan, the lakes all darken
Blackbirds flocking to and fro, sevens
Roots drag marsh over the floor, levelin’
Millie, can’t you stop them? You slow no omens
like exhaling, it never ends

Three redwing blackbirds outside my window
two fish heads at my door
What be this omen, I’ll never know
Millie, warm the kettle once more

Three redwing blackbirds outside my window
Two fish heads at my door
One kettle bubbling atop rusted stove but
Millie, warm the kettle once
Millie, warm the kettle once
Milly could you so please be 
a kind old dearie just for me
and warm the kettle’s tea once more?

Catch me walking with the ghosts again
Must be on that double dose, depends
Roman chamomile all down the throat, lift hands
In Michigan, the lakes all darken
Blackbirds flocking to and fro, sevens
Roots drag marsh over the floor, levelin’
Millie, can’t you stop them? You slow no omens
like exhaling, it never ends

Millie, Warm the Kettle

My babe, replaced me with a new girl I see
Her in
The mirror, not out of jealousy but rather similarity

Oh, does she know

That when he braids her hair she looks just like me, his last lady?
Or why the corn don't grow
In the garden, she'll dig and find teeth not seeds
'Cause that's where I sleep

She don't know
Why he's got so many old ghosts

My babe's got her pruning in the garden now, poppies
She scrapes the dirt from
The souls in her boots, the buried bodies
He never means it when he says he's sorry

When he finally blows
I pray she won't forgive easily like me, that she can gnash her teeth
So she can throw
What's left of him upon his pile of dirty laundry
As she wipes herself clean
After this new girl, there will be no more
Old ghosts

He taunts my spirit every day with his new, new girl
Does she know that he too was once my world?
Just as well-behaved with my lamb-like grace
Belly-up in the beast that I thought I could tame
I wanna raise the dead just to play with his head
It's a shame that he'd make her clean his mess up instead
I wanna set her free, and say she's not alone
When her peripherals make him a devil
But I'm just an old ghost

New Girl, Old Ghosts

01 - Scars - The Crane Wives - Beyond Beyond Beyond

The Bog Bodies

The Bog Bodies (Acoustic Dorm Demo)

Lyrics:

If the double-row eighteen-cylinder
Air-cooled radial engine
Is not enough to tip you off
Before he slips you off the needle
Drops you into unstitched space
The wasteland which henceforth
Shall be referred to as “your place”

The captain lives by the sword
And the captain loves by the sword
When the captain dies by the sword
He'll leave you trapped in the cockpit
Crying out "Mayday!"

When a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher aerial courtship
Nosedives in a blitzkrieg from that Whiskey Delta
You can tell the backyard bomber
Never helmed a cargo crate
He croaks out undoing and doom
To the wishful safety net
You jeopardized your life to loom

The captain lives by the sword
And the captain loves by the sword
Once you elope with the captain
You'll leave on a sordid honeymoon
Trapped in the cockpit
Crying out "Mayday!"

Always the last and never the least
Always the fast and never the feast
Always the cult of domesticity
Always the jolts of electricity
Always surpassed and never decreased
Always amassed and never released
Always the past controls your mind
Never the peace you hoped to God you'd finally find

The captain lives by the sword
And the captain loves by the sword
And when he dies by the sword
He’ll reward you for your obedience
For your countenance has woven in at every turn

Even as the back, even as the back
Of the hand
Even as the back, even as the back
Of the hand still burns
Even as the back, even as the back
Of the hand still burns
From the last airstrike

Credits:
Music and lyrics - Stephan Nance
Piano/vocals/backing vocals - Stephan Nance
Programming/bass guitar/guitars/banjo/organ/keys - Josh Frigo
Violin/viola/cello - Yoed Nir
Double bass - Jeni Magana
Trumpet - John Lake
Trombone/bass trombone - Becca Patterson
French horn - Meredith Moore
Piccolo/flute/oboe/clarinet/bassoon - Josh Plotner
Percussion - Mathias Kunzli
Drums - Aksel Coe
Orchestral arrangement - Josh Plotner
Vocal recording engineer - Adam Sweeney
Mixing - Josh Frigo
Mastering - Alex Dobbert
Artwork - Rebecca DeMoss
Graphic design - Chad Lowe

Mayday!

I Am Not a Stranger Here

Preybirds (Watcher Song)

The Crane Wives - Take Me To War

a lil bit folk, a lil bit cosmic, a lil bit whatnot... 
songs for the winged, moss-clad being that climbs through my window every blue moon and demands MUSIC.

New Girl, Old Ghosts

Rabbitology

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