T. Hakola- words/music, guitars, bass...
other voice-Brisa Roché, contact/info: www.theohakola.com,
THE RIVER SONG
In the beginning, there was the water, a drop in need
of another bead to bond with and give birth
Might have come from cats and dogs rain to us sustain
or bubbled up like champagne to maintain life on earth
Drop after drop a-cruising, source and snow melt fusing
never ever refusing the pull of gravity
and everywhere infusing every cavity...
Going down, down, down to the sea
then coming back for you and coming back for me
Sculpting our mother’s rocky flesh with luscious lines and sultry gullies
that hydrochisel made her gorges wet carving her coulees to beget
a ravishing vanishing vignette, a song of sorrow and furrowed regret
intoned over the untamed domain by wolf, elk, duck and whooping crane
losing their link in the old food chain to bipeds run amok
in the gospel of gain
damned to idle in an arid oubliette, a walled off remnant by despair beset
while we spout babies and the growth alphabet,
bound for hades in a handbasket
to howl with the devil in a toxic tête-à-tête
while I befoul this revel with every rhyme I can net
but I can’t stop singing, I’ll be the last to leave the fête
for whether right or wrong, I’m paying off a debt
to all the river life-givers that can still do it
to every stream and streamlet, every creek and conduit
filling every cavity, drawn along by gravity...
Going down, down, down to top up the sea
and then coming back for you, coming back for me
Springs they do meet and merge to form creeks
joining streams as a means to emerge as a river
to feed another river that will other rivers seek
the earth’s life blood flowing down to the deep
carving out its contours on its way to the ocean
curving carnal detours, a perpetual motion
through mounds of flesh jutting, o’er the dark fundament
the blood water’s ever cutting a voluptuous descent
A Camille Claudel torrent is our sacred three per cent
Running home to the sea and the other ninety-seven
before cycling back to us after a stop in heaven
to plump up the raindrops and sharpen their teeth
for a return to the rivers waiting underneath
I can smell the rain coming together with the fire
making mad love, the eternal purifier
and I’ve got nothing to hide now not even my desire
to fill every cavity and go down with gravity...
Down with the river, down down to the sea
then water cycle back to you, cycle back me...
other voice-Brisa Roché, contact/info: www.theohakola.com,
THE RIVER SONG
In the beginning, there was the water, a drop in need
of another bead to bond with and give birth
Might have come from cats and dogs rain to us sustain
or bubbled up like champagne to maintain life on earth
Drop after drop a-cruising, source and snow melt fusing
never ever refusing the pull of gravity
and everywhere infusing every cavity...
Going down, down, down to the sea
then coming back for you and coming back for me
Sculpting our mother’s rocky flesh with luscious lines and sultry gullies
that hydrochisel made her gorges wet carving her coulees to beget
a ravishing vanishing vignette, a song of sorrow and furrowed regret
intoned over the untamed domain by wolf, elk, duck and whooping crane
losing their link in the old food chain to bipeds run amok
in the gospel of gain
damned to idle in an arid oubliette, a walled off remnant by despair beset
while we spout babies and the growth alphabet,
bound for hades in a handbasket
to howl with the devil in a toxic tête-à-tête
while I befoul this revel with every rhyme I can net
but I can’t stop singing, I’ll be the last to leave the fête
for whether right or wrong, I’m paying off a debt
to all the river life-givers that can still do it
to every stream and streamlet, every creek and conduit
filling every cavity, drawn along by gravity...
Going down, down, down to top up the sea
and then coming back for you, coming back for me
Springs they do meet and merge to form creeks
joining streams as a means to emerge as a river
to feed another river that will other rivers seek
the earth’s life blood flowing down to the deep
carving out its contours on its way to the ocean
curving carnal detours, a perpetual motion
through mounds of flesh jutting, o’er the dark fundament
the blood water’s ever cutting a voluptuous descent
A Camille Claudel torrent is our sacred three per cent
Running home to the sea and the other ninety-seven
before cycling back to us after a stop in heaven
to plump up the raindrops and sharpen their teeth
for a return to the rivers waiting underneath
I can smell the rain coming together with the fire
making mad love, the eternal purifier
and I’ve got nothing to hide now not even my desire
to fill every cavity and go down with gravity...
Down with the river, down down to the sea
then water cycle back to you, cycle back me...
Category
🎵
Music