Tend from Stoveside by Tasha Zappala

White-washed stone, sinking sun
Hope, a hold, wound undone
Woe, regret, I lay down, she swallows me whole
Earth, she grows, a blanket of leaves, I go
 
Tending to these bones, a weight I’ve held too long
Creeps across the skin, a shattering of stone
I made it all this way, just to feel the same
The only way I stay, heart, branch, home
 
Out of breath, maybe I’m just scared to be alone
This bitterness, punctuates my words it’s all I know
Out of breath, body a canvas for roots to grow
Time of rest, maybe I’ve been spared for blooms to show
Out of breath, body a canvas for roots to grow
Time of rest, tending to this garden of my own

• Alternative
• Blues
• Experimental
• Field Recordings
• Folk
• Soundscapes
• Australia