You braced from recoil showered by
the buckshot spray
Our cocksure walk down tenant land
would never burn them down
or quell the quaking ground
Wind-burned children
dig and grow
A marching youth would not hold tight
and never could
and if they do keep glory here
never burn them down
and sway with joyous sound
Deep and wide
there's a cold wind blowing
Windburn Children
wield our ploughshares
here we are standing on guard
here we are saved
ELABORATION:
Coming from a lineage of farmers, I see the decline of family run agriculture, the decline of eating what one grows; a true understanding of land and openness is becoming less and less common. To stand in the open prairie and feel the wind, harrowed by the brisk, is noble – to be a son of the land.
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