With echoes of Talk Talk, a powerful buildup bass, drums, piano and flute flourishes and the voice of Tamara Lindeman, aka Toronto’s The Weather Station, are hallmarks of huge maturity in her music. This song, filled with life-affirming images, comes from the new upcoming album, Ignorance. More of her work can be enjoyed below via her Bandcamp page and her 2017 album below on The Weather Station website. Out on Fat Possum.
My god, I thought what a sunset
Blood red floods the Atlantic
With a wine in my hand, laid back
In the grass of some stranger's field
While shearwaters reeled overhead
Thinking I should get all this dying off of my mind
I should really know better than to read the headlines
Does it matter if I see it?
Why can't I just cover my eyes?
In the half light, soft wind on my skin
Pink clouds massing on the cliffs
Thinking how can I touch this
How can I touch this softest
Petal, softest stem, softest leaf, bending, green, in my palm?
Thinking I should get all this dying off of my mind
I should really know better than to read the headlines
Does it matter if I see? No really
Can I not just cover my eyes?
Oh tell me, why can't I just cover my eyes?
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