by Faerytale

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Tribal percussion with cellos and lamenting voices paint a picture of the hardships feral beliefs endure when forced to inhabit an idol's box far too small.


My spirit is wild, no man can tame it
I must close my eyes, search within in order to contain it
For rage was my passion and war is all the rage
I hunger for the blood of the evil days
So hide
To pour it in a well of endless depth
The hearts I'd tear would only be deserving, I swear
Skipping past the hanging tree where my fathers slept
Fitful sleep, slumbering where the mothers wept
My heart disturbs
It addresses the dressing of old wounds
Hiding behind religious blessing
And that's where this wild spirit grew
Lowly, tethered beneath a pew
Before the towering pulpit of desire
Believe or die in the fire
Fire had already scorched my spirit
And the screams of a child, who can hear it?
So, I cut off my feet with their pages
I fled and bled in stages
I was rescued by the wolves who stitched on hind's feet
So I'd find purchase where the stone mountain and sky meet
On to the well of endless depth
Leaning in, I screamed, I cursed, I wept
I closed my eyes, I searched within
I sang, I sing without concern for sin
Now, I don't have to hide


released February 26, 2015
Created in acoustic style with no loops. Cello, bar stool, sticks, hand claps and vocals performed by Faerytale



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Faerytale Denton, Texas

Minimalist sounds and vocals are blended to create a dreamy atmosphere. Never has perfection been found. Only beauty.

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