A musical response to Daniel Quinn's "Ishmael".

The trees were alive with the sound of the drums carved in their wood.
Wild geese took their dives, blades of grass lullabied, the stone cello stood.
But there upon the moss ridden riverbed, I could open up my lungs for good.
I vocalized and felt the vibrations.

How I ran through the forest, naked, as Taurus found its way home.
I, a nudist branch, watched as ants shaped a grove like patchwork being sewn.
But wanting bills to pay, I ran away to the city where for ten years I was taxed,
But I recalled the woods and so I, I went back.

Concrete jungle's all I see
And smoke consumes all parts of me.
Shirts and ties and gasoline
Cut down and mute the music of the trees.
Spiders choked and grass kept neat
And slated grey on trash filled streets.
Beauty soiled, eye sores 'chic',
And never a tree.

As the forest died, so did I. Killed the life deepest in me.
As the forest died, so did I. Haunting cry - the specter agrees. 
This the coldest day of my life to date, all my stitch work has come undone.
The forest died and left the white cold sun. 


Music, Lyrics, Piano, Vocals: Adam Caswell
Upright Bass, Charming Disposition: Clay Snell. 

Moss Ridden Riverbed

The musical collaboration of Clay Snell, Adam Caswell, their closest friends, and their worst enemies. 

Uzbekiface: The Veg Col.

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