Wednesday, September 1, 2010

from by Sara Bouchard

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lyrics

Come gather round, all you hungry and eager!
I’ll narrate a life underground.
There’s a myth I think in that spiritual link
Between the lost and the found.

In a small subterranean chapel
Hiding in the belly of the earth,
There’s a quiet man, he’s a guide to his men
And he delivers good news.

He is something of a mystery;
He is not an angel or magician.
He has become a precious thing
For us on our path to perfection.

He’s the wise man of the river
Where he swims, fishes and sleeps.
No thing impure to these waters -
He’s the finest, strangest of his kind.

Hold out your hand.
There is a mark
Of roads and landscapes -
A passion of topography.

A crowded boat,
Washed ashore,
Cast no shadow -
No more sinking feeling.

He is something of a mystery;
He is not an angel or magician.
He has become a precious thing
For us on our path to perfection.

credits

from The News: Monday​-​Friday, released March 2, 2012

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Sara Bouchard Brooklyn, New York

I am a multi-disciplinary artist and songwriter with a strong foothold in American roots. As an artist, I investigate ways to interact with and represent the American landscape through song. As a musician, I perform original and traditional tunes - drawn from bluegrass, old-time, jazz, country and blues - with my band SALT PARADE. ... more

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