Blowing out them landscape views
sorry brethren, kissing days
You speak of watchmen in the walls
bored wars and black gold stains
And in the Red Deer River flow
washed out my shins an all
Those grass stains announce
sympathies ingrained in our youths
The wild geese cut so gentle
tastes like iron in my mouth
and with the diving sparrow
comes at the cross-wind blow
deign failure is not of us
then the believers move
to wave more flags
wave more flags
We heard the wind bark orders
rigid at attention pause
underneath the washed-out colours
I want them to be birthed anew.
ELABORATION:
Our country sets aside one day of the year, wherein the people paint their faces red and white and set fireworks off on Parliament hill, and the day after lose that fervour like amnesiacs. I am of a generation reared on Canada minutes and Terry Fox runs, yet even with these pains to unite the country under a banner, yet more often united in a collective apathy. Less a call for nationalist pride, but a pride in and of itself. A desire for a pride worth having. The ability to wave a flag, the ability to stand for something.
The Canadian singer-songwriter and environmental activist excels at helping to find a silver lining; everything is transitory, but that doesn’t mean it’s unsurmountable. Bandcamp Album of the Day Feb 18, 2020
Classic emo sing-a-longs trade blows with tormented post-hardcore passages on the Brooklyn outfit's powerful sophomore LP. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 3, 2024