ɒ

by Volta

/
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01:11
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00:21
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credits

released August 8, 2013

Recorded and mixed by Giacomo Bassano

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Track Name: Orphans of meadows
A mess of steps merges
with a gnarled surface.
The sketches on moves are places,
kept all safe in their placements.
They've got a homely mystique you can't read.
It cannot be shared.
It's an act of self care.
"close the door - hello to never
close the door - oh, someday I know…"
Below the ground the choir resounds.
I forget meanings.
With all the organs already cleaned up
I'll just plant here my own garden.
Track Name: Give me my flowers when I am sick while I yet live, so that I can see the beauty that they bring. Speak kind words while I can hear them, so that I can hear the beauty that they bring
Don't let starts and stops...
The blight grows thin
from bones to the coat.
Uncover the fangs.
This is not an immaculate posture,
charcoal on charcoal
to cover the treasured fears.
A different listener could destroy
the celebration of the all modern world.
Oh stranger, realign the hum
and our miseducation.
Give me my flowers to spare
and speak to the children.
All in all, the choir resounds:
"We were, we are, we will..."
Track Name: Murmur/Chorus
Every hum is buried in a mole of sound.
Every fear a vocal's tone ringed out in praise.
The lights are all embedded in their eyes.
Keep the curses and the promises 
for the smallest of the audiences.
Murmurs increase their volume. 
We are plural, low in the choir.
Track Name: Storytelling
There's a blue marginal note buried in the soil.
A so-called independence for the second son,
shield for glistening fangs.
Steal the choir and speak it out loud:
the room is set for the sacred souls.
Everyone here is a passenger,
so this place can always walking on.
I'm still able to replace a calm boo...
I'm at the end of the orbit,
close to a chest full of prayers…
Track Name: 10'11
These nervous hearts tick,
impose the gait that moves the earth.
Long live the lonely ghosts.
They make the only
perceptible sounds in the aisle.
Track Name: Gravel's the gift for the victory: count the harmonies if the language is dead / keep the speech safe if the words are thick, talk quietly and lay them all down
Lips were close to each other
but you opened the lids to a speak.
We cannot distinguish all the blink.
This skin is so brilliant.
Don't fear, oh breather, hold your rests.
Count the chords in a dead language,
they'll be replaced by bricks and gravel.