Proximity (EP)

by Seasick Swan

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jesusp
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jesusp This music is as simple as sophisticated and as pleasant as deeply moving. I love it! Favorite track: Dayline.
Eman Carbone
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Eman Carbone This is our first EP, recorded in July 2015 in London.

I played bass and doule-bass in all tracks, enjoy! Favorite track: Dayline.
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05:14
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04:52
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06:08
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04:51

about

This is our first EP. Written last Christmas, released just in time for this one :)

credits

released November 30, 2015

Music and words by Seasick Swan
Produced mixed and mastered by Jack Gilbert and Seasick Swan

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Seasick Swan London, UK

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Track Name: Proximity
Proximity warns my songs
that coming is the storm,
(that coming is the)
so why is it
just drizzling?
Beauty spend this day with me.

Proximity warns my thoughts
that you may never come,
(you may never have)
but someone's pulled at my sleeve.
And I can easily forgive.

The overview is lost
in between your teeth.
There is a needle razor sharp
which sows you up with me.
Togetherness: a tapestry.
What if I can't be
near enough to hear the sound
of this falling tree.
How can I realise who you are?

Proximity lit the bombs
that you had brought along
(that you had swallowed)
carefully.
One long breath and gone's the fear.

Proximity drew the dawn
upon a foggy pond
where there's no way to breathe.
And now my mouth is full of bees.

The overview is lost
in between your teeth.
There is a needle razor sharp
which sows you up with me.
Togetherness: a tapestry.
What if I can't be
near enough to hear the sound
of this falling tree.
How can I realise who you are?
Track Name: Dayline
Talking about the harvest
and the upkeep of their horses.
With the chilling of the wind
I hear the sniffling of their noses.
Ghosts are at home here.
Sometimes sitting of the porch
I used to hear their voices.
Talking about the harvest
and the upkeep of their horses.

River, river
slipping over.

Stony eyes and twig-like fingers.

Speaking of the winter through
the words of an old fairy-tale.
Days were getting shorter
and the biscuits they were going stale.
Come in from the cold with
the wolves out on the cattle trails.

River, river
slipping over.

Stony eyes and twig-like fingers.

See as it slips away like the time we've lost.
See as it slips away like the time we've got.
Track Name: Christmas
Drawing lines with brittle bones
circling round the traffic cones.
Sometimes I join them, sit in stone.
The traffic today looks like a lantern parade.

The wind tickles the aerials
but they're too busy showing us Sky Sports.

Read the signs just like a score,
holding out for something more.
The woman like the zebra crossing
lies in pieces on the asphalt;
people crossing, stepping on her back.
(Pick up your present off the tarmac)

The traffic lights don't feel alright
'cause half the time the green has got the blues.

Christmas is creased
from the weight
of a year's worth of disappointments.
See it unfold
catch a cold
put your fear in a tinsel chokehold.

Driving round the parking lot,
managing to get myself lost.
I can't find a space behind the windscreen of my eyes.
And with a red nose by the glove compartment,
eyes are peeking over the dashboard.

I take the bus 'cause it feels right
to be led home by distant dialtones.

Christmas is creased
from the weight
of a year's worth of disappointments.
See it unfold
catch a cold
put your fear in a tinsel chokehold.
Track Name: Fiction, Future and Prediction
What's the point in living forever.
There's a place called heaven
where nothing ever happens.

I my dreams my friends and I
discuss putting an end to things.

I'm still on the chase
but in a few odd years
I'll long to be in this headspace.

We give a chance only by chance.
The pluriverse in a blurry verse.

In my dreams my friends and I
discuss putting an end to things,
but suicide is only as attractive as it's always been.
Track Name: Break Time
Bonfire ash on a cracked stone stand
a podium for the anti-air guns
and long gone members of brass bands

Benches facing the high command
our identities lie encased
in shards of opaque air

Portholes out of a living hell
gates are opening, breakdown
at the foot of One Tree Hill

Fifty thousand reclaimed this land
golf tee royalties weren't enough
to prise it from their hands

Kids released into paddocks
all across the country
time is just an illusion
break time perhaps even more so

The oak stands tall and forgotten
an unremarkable torso

You are the sinner