When night fell twenty years ago,
a blanket cold and gray,
the moon just waned
and faded away
I struck a match-head on the door
and lit five blackened wicks
the match burned out
and crumbled on the sixth
I lost the sunlight then I lost the moon
I lost the smell of the lilacs in June
The wind in the trees is the ghost of a thought
A future I already forgot
When I climbed up the staircase to
the room where books grow old,
I smelled the dust
of stories never told
Each spine is torn and rotted through,
the pages worn and gray
the darkness came
and stole the words away
I lost the sunlight then I lost the moon
I lost the pages I last read in June
The wind in the trees is a ghost of a thought
A future and past I already forgot
I lost the sunlight then I lost the moon
I lost the smell of my lover in June
The wind in the trees is the ghost of a thought
A future I already forgot
Pairing lo-fi indie rock with silvery folk instrumentation, the self-described "bedroom pop wizard" casts a cozy, poignant spell. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 11, 2024