My love is big, she stretch her dress.
She climbs me - Mt. Everest.
Or is I the one who climb?
We are living in the end-times.
Oh my love is bittersweet.
To love my love is sweat and labor.
This mark she marked me with her teeth -
I gave it too, I gave it to my neighbor.
Tongue your sweetheart on his lips.
Honey, take a whiff on this.
My thoughts are stained in toxic sludge.
Loving you is my labor of love.
I move like I don't have bones,
Moving like we used to do.
You licking on your ice cream cone -
I have often thought of you.
Knocked so hard I knocked your door.
It's too early - sure not nearly quarter to four.
Why do I feel so strange?
Ride around, little dogies, ride around my brain.
Love, were you moved by the sound in my throat?
It was nothing. I nibbled the crumbling biscuit.
It was a trifle, it was no rose.
You can't feel the thing you're twisting.
What I wish you weren't wicked.
It doesn't mean a thing like this to listen.
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024
Percussionist and sound artist Riccardo La Foresta joins musician and producer James Ginzburg for a fluid collaborative experiment. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 4, 2024