Before It's Time

I remember you waiting for the news
To know if it was over
Hesitantly you asking if it's true
That the world goes on without you
Neither of us cried when Mary-Ellen died.
She was such a bitch, though.
Nasopharyngeal cancer of the neck
What a stupid kind of cancer

Monday on the porch. Why not go to church?
Better late than never 
Then it was me and you smoking in the pew
We called them holy spirits
Edward 40 hands at the Golden Hoosier Bar
No one dared to stop you
Kneeling by the creek in a puddle of puke,
Better this than nothing

I remember sweat, the smell of your neck
when they told me it was over
Prepping vegetables with the Japanese knife
That I stole from you the last time
Staring at the sink, waiting to cry
I thought I heard you joking:
That there are only two ways to dull a knife
You can rust it, or you can thrust it inside

Edward 40 Hands

Smokey Mountain

We've Been Here Before (A Dream Don't Come Easy)

Recorded live as part of the Artifacts Live Performance Film. You can watch the full performance here: https://youtu.be/vI9Jl-s5Mbw

Guitarist: Chris Brambley 

Written and performed by Emma Miller
Sound Engineered & Mixed by Lucas Mendes
Performed at Newcastle Civic Centre

Downstairs (Live from Newcastle Civic Centre)

Winter Friends

Midnight Flowers

TOMORROW

The war in Ukraine
The Earth is unleashed
Blood in the plains
Tomorrow will not come

Women in chains
Tears in chains
Children in pain
Tomorrow will not come

Boats drift
The sea that intoxicates
Boats capsize
Tomorrow will not come

People leaving
To other nations
Die in unison
Tomorrow will not come

But who can believe in a new future?
And where do the songs and laughter go?
What chance do we have?
Tomorrow

War at your door
The heat carries you away
The harvests are dead
Tomorrow will not come

Fear in the square
The cold that freezes you
The emotion that fades
Tomorrow will not come

But who can believe in a new future?
And where do the songs and laughter go?
But what chance do we have?
Tomorrow

Demain

Intro is from 1946 film ‘Its a wonderful life’

V1:
I saw a shadow in the rain
It spoke to me
It wore your voice and knew my name
Never to leave

PC:
Try to see things from my side
How much I put on the line
I don’t think that you noticed
Doesn’t matter either way
What I do nor what I say
It never did 

C1:
Said it’s pulling me in 
I will let down
Everything you love
Until I’m not around
Don’t step in my direction
Coz all I’ve ever found
Is how to make you bleed from shutting you out

Bridge:
Give me something to burn

V2:
I run but when it rains it pours
Are you surprised 
She hides the clock beneath the floor (8)
I lose the time

PC:
Try to see things from my side
How much I put on the line
Have you ever noticed 
Seems not to matter either way
What I do nor what I say
It never did 

C2:
Said it’s pulling me in 
I will let down
Everything you love
Until I’m not around
Don’t step in my direction
All I’ve ever found
Is how to make you bleed from shutting you out

Said it’s pulling me in 
I will let down
Everything you love
Until I’m not around
Don’t step in my direction
All I’ve ever found
Is how to make you bleed from shutting you out

Give me something to burn

Burn

A slow-burning, intimate confession from the perspective of a man who loves through possession and pain. Acoustic-driven and darkly poetic, The Sadist explores the sacred violence of surrender, devotion, and emotional dominance. Calm, spiritual, and quietly terrifying. Inspired by the writings of Avsolen.

The Sadist

Lyrics 

I remember sitting at that wooden desk one spring
Your weathered hands traced circles on the board
About the way that water moves through everything
While outside, rain was falling, largely ignored
You turned to face the class with fierce intensity
That made us all sit straighter in our chairs
"The world," you said, "is not our property"
And something in your voice caught me unaware


Your words that day changed everything I knew
Now I see the world the way you do


You brought a jar of soil and poured it on your palm
Explaining how each handful holds a universe
Of creatures keeping all our systems calm
The food chain's not a chart, it's something worse
You showed us photographs of melting polar seas
And spoke about the bees that didn't return
I watched you plant a seedling by the maple trees
And waited after class, now desperate to learn


Your words that day changed everything I knew
Now I see the world the way you do


Twenty years have passed, I'm teaching science now
Standing at my own board, drawing water's flow
When students ask me why I care so much somehow
I hear your voice still teaching what I know


I take my classes out to touch the morning dew
And watch their faces change just like mine changed
When understanding breaks and something deep and true
Connects them to this earth we've got to save
The passion in your lesson echoes through the years
As I pass on the wisdom that you shared


Your words that day changed everything I knew
Now I see the world the way you do




Earthwise - REMASTERED - HD

Chaque morceau est une pièce d’un labyrinthe intérieur, chaque personnage un masque tombé dans le puits. L’Âne Flûte n’est pas un autre. Ni le corbeau. Ni le roi des rats. Tous parlent d’un même lieu, d’un même cœur fendu par les années, par le doute, par l’épuisement d’être. Ce projet est le récit d’un seul être qui s’est éparpillé pour mieux se rassembler.

Il a fallu deux années pour oser cette traversée. Deux années à visiter chaque recoin de la caverne : la peur, l’égo, la honte, la colère, mais aussi la lucidité, l’éclat d’une étoile dans la nuit, les murmures d’un espoir sans nom. C’est une cartographie de l’âme, un théâtre peuplé d’ombres qui sont toutes un seul corps.

L’intelligence artificielle n’est pas une coquetterie ici, mais un choix essentiel. Elle sert à ôter la voix de l’auteur pour révéler la voix de l’œuvre. Ce n’est pas lui que l’on écoute, c’est ce que ça dit en lui, et peut-être en chacun. La musique devient alors canal, les voix des archétypes, et l’auteur, un passeur anonyme qui délègue l’incarnation pour que l’essence passe sans entrave.

C’est un opéra intérieur, un carnaval de symboles, un murmure d’enfant vieux.
Un seul être se cherche — dans mille visages.

Edward 40 Hands

Robert Leaves

Related tracks