1. |
Bitters
04:21
|
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|
The secret cut, from where they feed.
The portions picked, despite the need.
The most even head among us won't stop to aid the wreck.
The meek and the even-tempered get hung out from the neck, to burn.
The perfect tone, before it fades.
The saccharine, that coats the toxic ales and bitters.
This isn't harmony.
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2. |
Woods
04:45
|
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|
Through the woods I go, to mate and feed.
Through the heads I sail, to taste the sea.
Through the ice I trail, to shake the sense from me.
With the seeds I sow, I till through the plain.
With the hands I own, I feel the terrain.
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3. |
Tendulkar
05:26
|
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4. |
Umpteen Months
05:43
|
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|
I'm nuts already, I'm not sorry.
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5. |
Variations on a Dream
07:08
|
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|
Presiding before the fields of our right.
Dividing the soil. Till nothing remains of our share.
Now we're stuck in the mud.
The signing of deeds to rest the acreage in the state.
Abiding by creeds to shuffle away in our reins.
Now we're stuck in the mud.
|
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Attunga Sails Sydney, Australia
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