Don’t you underestimate us; we have lived here much longer than you know
Stack that woodpile in the corner, soaked in Bourbon it will burn right through the snow
Her flannel dangles on your shoulder, as your beard is growing older in the cold
You have loved so many others; you have shaken all the innocence you’ve stolen
Ready or not here I come to blank face stares at my shirt undone
Ready to run, but I can’t run, your mouth is wet, my chest is numb
The bird seed shells are black as raisons on the backdrop of the white December earth
And as you look out of your window, you become the person that you’ve always hurt
We’ve come so far in our deliverance, she says while digging through the drugstore in her purse
My halo’s sometimes rather crooked, I never tend to fear I’ve lived to see the worst
Ready or not here I come to blank face stares at my shirt undone
Ready to run, but I can’t run, your mouth is wet, my chest is numb
In the siren’s solitary whistle, the devil plays a contrapuntal jig for two
“Well, tell the truth like any other, but leave the part out where I cover up the truth”
A record scratches up the needle, the spotlight sizes up the center of the room
And there you stand with all your laundry, your clothes are dirty but my mind can see right through
Ready or not here I come to blank face stares at my shirt undone
Ready to run, but I can’t run, your mouth is wet, my chest is numb
Give us bread to wipe our faces, serve us wine to stain the places where we’ve been
I hear the mice jump under stove tops, round the pilot light to clear the crumbs I’ve left
Momma taught me how to hold you, how a woman wants the pillows on her bed
I wish our bodies never slept, I wish to Jesus that these thorns come off my head
Ready or not here I come to blank face stares at my shirt undone
Ready to run, but I can’t run, your mouth is wet, my chest is numb
Now the country is a monster, the combines rusting in an overgrow of mirth
Living hungry like mosquitoes, feeding on the backs of calves until they burst
The papers say I’ve killed a brother, but I was dead before the trigger shot him first
But everybody is forgotten, except the saints who pray each day for their re-birth
Ready or not here I come to blank face stares at my shirt undone
Ready to run, but I can’t run, your mouth is wet, my chest is numb
A dreamy improv-folk collage from Toronto multi-instrumentalist Clara Engel, who plays cigar box guitar, talharpa, melodica, and many more. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 20, 2022
Irish singer-songwriter Oisin Leech's acoustic folk music is characterized by its muted beauty and intimate, solitary quality. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 16, 2024
The haunting new record from Canadian folk artist Avi C. Engel bridges old and new traditions with a minimalist approach. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 24, 2024
From Cork, Ireland, Lewis Barfoot writes mystic, majestic songs derived from regional folk, with an ambient music aura. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 11, 2023