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"Four Preludes" Op. 5

by The Wooden Wolf

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1.
I used to laugh at my shadow I guess I thought it was my past Now I let it speak to me The echo of a muffled heart in the chest But I guess all this hollow me Is just a place to hide All these folded instincts Just a broken pride I thought I was busy dying But I'm busy being born Everything is for tomorrow But tomorrow never comes There's never enough room Never enough room just to be anywhere So we give the silence a little stir We lay down five minutes Aim for the stars and devour centuries With all these mirrors waiting for faces in them With all these mirrors waiting for faces in them They glow, outwardly, just like me But that glow is not a light Just a phony little fever And it's spread all over me, it's obscene It's keeping me numb, deceptively clean Oh but we get old, real fast Have you ever noticed The way you eventually get to like this shit This comfort in being sad Despite yourself I thought I was being dying But I'm busy being born I thought I was busy dying But I'm busy being born I thought I was busy dying But I'm busy being born
2.
It takes an angel to make a ghost All I do everyday is wake up Wake up and lick the frost off my dreams I think it’s maybe the best thing I do Work my tongue on a forgotten dream The wings of the night are beautiful things But they’re beautiful things only when they flap They’re only dusty feathers in the morning And everyday’s an unborn phoenix in a trap At night I try to sleep but I don’t sleep Cause that’s when the ghosts are comin’ out You know there’s a ghost behind every little thing Looming Brave men are broken nightly in their beds In a desert of useless moonlight There’s a howling emptiness gnawing through their mattress and their head Off the ceiling drips the blood of a forgotten god A bed full of blood is where they sleep Full of sweat, full of cum, full of tears Cause we were born there, we fuck there and that’s where we’ll die too So why even get out from under the sheets At night I try to sleep but I don’t sleep Cause that’s when the ghosts are comin’ out You know there’s a ghost behind every little thing Looming, inhaling when you exhale Opening his eyes when you close yours But it takes an angel to make a ghost, you know It takes an angel to make a ghost
3.
Come on little green eyes, stay with me Come on little green eyes, lay with me And play with me But stay with me Screaming eyes, so sharp with light Troubled eyes but exquisitely alive With quivering fire O little green eyes Splendid eyes with green but despair too There’s languor and spleen but where are you? They tremble from rage to resignation O little green eyes, little green eyes, little green eyes Now come on little green eyes, stay with me Come on little green eyes, lay with me Come on little green eyes, oh play with me
4.
Berta Cáceres was a Honduran indigenous Environmental rights campaigner, an activist Fighting for her land, for a life with dignity But like hundreds of others before she was murdered Four bullets to thank her for her commitment and bravery Giving her life for the well-being of humanity That’s what happens when you defend your way of life Gunmen seem to get the better of human rights And what’s doing the government to face impunity But privatize rivers and uproot communities What would you do if you were the persecuted What would you like better, to be dispossessed or shot ? Go, go Río Blanco Flow, flow río, flow, just flow

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released March 5, 2017

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The Wooden Wolf France

The music of The Wooden Wolf, deeply sincere, is a music of spaces. They are big and wild, small and intimate, he absorbs the details and fills the void. It is an introspective music that nourishes text prose flower. His sensitivity make all the flavor of his compositions: a sensitivity as unique as universal. ... more

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