And she stood, basket in hand staring at
Woods as they stood, higher than planes above the
Path where she skipped, along the trees, her red coat dancing in the
Wind whistles cold, empty hollow, baring shelter from the
Rain came falling down,
That rain came right down
She'll find her way back home
Over fields she'll go
And he stood,
Such large eyes, such a big grin
The bladed wood,
Attached to a man came storming in with,
A heart of gold,
He cries victory, Red runs right home
And everyday's the same
So I try to find a way,
To change my age, to match my face-
It, she's now grown
And we tell stories of her past
The memories that last
Are those that aren't shown
And now she stands,
Basket in hand,
Staring at the woods,
And down the path that she once ran down,
And now she sings...
Can you hear me calling
(I can't hear what you're saying)
I'm standing strong but, the walls are bending
(Your mouth keeps talking)
Can you hold you're own in a house imploding
(I can't hear what you're saying)
Can you hear me calling
(My ears aren't listening)
Not really sure what I'm thinking,
Most of the time I'm sure that I'm thinking.
But mind will,
Overkill,
Feed me well,
And send me back home
Tell me I'm gold
Through me you'll show,
Cause through me you'll glow
Hauntingly beautiful “ambient-folk mini-epics” from Portland singer-songwriter/multimedia artist Dao Strom reflect on memory and identity. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 8, 2022