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Description
Pretty simple musically, but this one tested me vocally at times, hardly my comfort zone. I could've busted out the harmonica, but in the end didn;t feel the need. Please provide with with criticism, I need it.
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Lyrics
Nobility is antiquated,
This equestrian command is fine dust and finer sand.
Wind howls syncopated
At your beck and call, when the leaves, they smell of fall.
Though the seasons could have waited,
They passed to rot and rust, all their gods replaced by dust.
And I never was sated
To think that my remains would never feel it when it rains.
I’ll leave you restless to seek rest,
To still this gray-scabbed wilderness,
And when I leave I’ll make no sound,
My shadows will remain at home,
The crunch of dead leaves on the ground
Will sing my footsteps when I go.
I will always somehow aspire
Merely to stare into the skies, where the stars, they swarm like flies
And though this ancient fire,
Carved the tablets of our lore, it drained our veins onto the floor,
This stentorian desire
Cooled only by a stare that stills the wild throes of the air,
Clothes rent we grace the pyres
With laments for all the words we sung not half so well as birds.
I’ll leave you restless to seek rest,
To still this gray-scabbed wilderness,
And when I leave I’ll make no sound,
My shadows will remain at home,
The crunch of dead leaves on the ground
Will sing my footsteps when I go.
This equestrian command is fine dust and finer sand.
Wind howls syncopated
At your beck and call, when the leaves, they smell of fall.
Though the seasons could have waited,
They passed to rot and rust, all their gods replaced by dust.
And I never was sated
To think that my remains would never feel it when it rains.
I’ll leave you restless to seek rest,
To still this gray-scabbed wilderness,
And when I leave I’ll make no sound,
My shadows will remain at home,
The crunch of dead leaves on the ground
Will sing my footsteps when I go.
I will always somehow aspire
Merely to stare into the skies, where the stars, they swarm like flies
And though this ancient fire,
Carved the tablets of our lore, it drained our veins onto the floor,
This stentorian desire
Cooled only by a stare that stills the wild throes of the air,
Clothes rent we grace the pyres
With laments for all the words we sung not half so well as birds.
I’ll leave you restless to seek rest,
To still this gray-scabbed wilderness,
And when I leave I’ll make no sound,
My shadows will remain at home,
The crunch of dead leaves on the ground
Will sing my footsteps when I go.
Hickling_Stan
Did you sing and play at the same time to one track? If you did it might be worth trying a re record as two seperate tracks. The vocal reminded me of Dylan and it's an interesting song. The guitar reminded me of my early days of playing, perhaps try playing a little less harshly. relax into it a bit more. You've got something here but it needs a bit of work. Cheers mark