Alchemy and Trust

by Village Of Spaces

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05:57
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credits

released July 9, 2013

All songs written by Dan Beckman-Moon and Amy Moon O-S. All artwork by Amy Moon O-S . Mastered by Timmothy Stollenwerk. V.O.S. 2009-2011

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Track Name: Ovum's Influence
1. OVUM’S INFLUENCE (4:57)

Perfectly circular isn’t repetition without change. Unless we join lights friend, a circle’s shadow.
The oblong spherical, gateway to asymmetrical,
Ovum’s influence, Life’s moving on upon the wings of an egg. Transcontinental, a common goal to attain. Perfectly circular isn’t repetition without change, Unless we join light’s friend, a circle’s shadow. Down below, sweeping the vista coming up. Do those eggs stand up on end?
Gravity’s breach as the balance is on the mend.
Gravity’s breach, as the balance draws the sun in.
Track Name: Forget Me Not
2. FORGET ME NOT (7:24)

What you’ve gone and done down on 141?
I can’t begin to see where you went.
Chasing droppings left behind, from the wheels of time.
Dancing on all fours with the wolves of yore.
Sweetness slows the time down, and sweetness knows just what your after. Hello westward to, get to eastward winds, The wilds will be breaking through the clouds. The heaviness of longing and tracking a lost or injured trail Lying here alone.
Worrying wont make the time fly. And fear of loosing won't get us by. People drift away when saddened, and sadness is alone. On tidal shores and waking islands. Or rows of corn dropped my hearing gulls. If I go to sleep lying on my back, I go to raid my tomb, of all the horrors filled inside,
Swimming nude in El Topo’s rain/reign, Sweat dripped on the fires low/below. Please don’t ever forget me. So stick it on my shirt. What kind of flower is this one? I know you’ll need to ask.
What kind of flower is this one?
Forget me not and Flowers Butter Blue.
Track Name: House a Home 2
3. HOUSE A HOME PART 2 (4:30)

If only I could lose my mind one more time this week.
These walls we’re breaking down. These walls we’re building up, walls these weeks, months these years, building up.
Got four walls and they’re not made of steel. Got a stove and it ain’t on wheels. These back burners they’re heating up. They could bury me down and I wouldn’t care, as long as they buried me down with a fork and spoon, I’d eat my way back to you.
Track Name: Montana Telephone
4. MONTANA TELEPHONE (6:18)

Long distance on a Montana telephone.
Through Bison fields, and empty rooms.
Eclipsing now.
It’s not too far from here, to the places, that I call home.
And listened to, and answered back, on the telephone. Crystal sky and a beaded ship, where the taste is bittersweet, out in the deep, out on the deep.
Silver pillow on a fucked up night. And the rain falls down, and catches your eye.
Track Name: Bouy Gong
5. BUOY GONG (5:58)

Gong upon the bay, and one upon the rooftop, sings with the breeze, and the pull of a hand. Love dancing, down a garden path, swimming in dreams, during waking light. Morning glories climbing, up into the mailbox, vibrating skulls, not thoughts confined. Were you there yesterday? I thought I heard you call. Bells were ringing in my spine. Like periwinkles on a fortnight flight, birthed back into water, where our souls begun, of the mermaid’s fodder. Of mountains laughter, of rafters lifting, sky’s water off, down go
the locust posts, grounding totem’s hum. And blood pumping, up into a well, made of veins pulsing, radiates warmth, and steam billowing breathing. From the foot of the shore, and out into the waters, signals and breathing. Migratory messages from Appalachia’s backbone, day’s first light, on Hawthorne berry’s wing, Forsythia’s early bloom. Eagerly patiently, stomps hollers dance until you die, sand cranes and telephones, and in the foggy night, there’s time to arrive. Water lines, shrines and wind signs, maggot trains, digging in rafters brains, ascending the basins cage, rocky up the bumps, spices and butter, alchemy and trust.
Track Name: Mountain Side
6. MOUNTAINSIDE (4:57)

I looked for the mountainside, and oh that side was wild.
I looked for the mountain vine, and now I’m high and tired. And that path was wide, it opened like a sign. And that path was wild, like the
mountainside.
If I lose my way, I can’t help but leave others behind. Courses take their turn, about
where the hill meets the sea. I looked for the mountainside, and oh that side was wild.
Jumbled rocks displaced by a force that has no face. These days I take it in stride, just before the sun. One step ahead of time, hidden doors of pine. So much more to learn, about where the hill meets the sea.