From the recording Slow, the Summer Burned

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Aurora roams the treeline
Orion starts to speak
Of the hunters and their quarry
Bounding through the creeks

Lanterns are a'flashing
Eyes are all a'light
Trees dip down to water
For to sip a bit of life

Poets drown down deep in lakes
Unable to be heard
Above the crashing whitecaps
Eclipsing every word

Children comb the wreckage
Washing up at every turn
Long are the days of August
Slow the summer burned

Fires on the beaches
Rising faces from the past
Too lost within their journey
Too broke to lend a hand

Candles in the cabins
Boats along the docks
A soggy book of poetry
Floats among the rocks

Boys below the sand dunes
Dividing up the loot
A drum from a banjo
A foreign soldier's boot

A moth caught in the lamplight
No flicker of concern
Crooked ran the rivers
Slow the summer burned

Night time turned to ashes
Above the roadside motor inn
There was a tenor in her voice and
A copper in her skin

Morning fell upon us
Lost along the road
The timber in the river kept the secret,
Never told

Of the flannel covered shoulders and
A million miles of stone
The paper from the birches smoked and
Blew away alone

Footprints near the shallows
Searching to return
Tranquil turned the water
Slow the summer burned