album name

Growth and Decay

band name

by Trevor Wilson and Vocal Ensemble

Growth and Decay Cover Art
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1.
03:36
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2.
02:24
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3.
03:05
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4.
01:35
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5.
02:30
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6.
01:34
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7.
04:13
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8.
03:02
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9.
04:28
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10.
04:03
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11.
01:27
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12.
03:33
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credits
released 05 November 2009
tags
tags: experimental pop vocal Brooklyn
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Some rights reserved
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Trevor Wilson (b. 1986) is a composer and songwriter currently living in Brooklyn.

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Track Name: Gods
Oh, the trees, a web, the patterns on a rock
could be explored for a lifetime.
Oh the tree, and its branches. Branches!

Oh, the wonder I felt as a child looking on,
I will carry that wonder here in my palm.

Oh, the breeze that lifts the leaves seems a God,
impossibly tall, taller than my father.
Oh, the tree, and its branches. Branches!

Oh, the wonder I felt as a child looking on,
I will carry that wonder here in my palm.
Track Name: Gaze
All pitter patter heart, and pitter patter fingertips,
fingertips, fingertips, fingertips again.
I stumble to explain the reason for the pattering,
Caught between your subtle lip and the shadow of your gaze.

All pitter patter heart, but pattering on memory,
On memory, on memory, on memory again.
The shadow of your gaze seems a lovely phrase,
But it never could contain the captivation of the source.

Still pitter patter goes my heart.
Pitter patter goes my little heart.
Track Name: Past
Have I grown cold from the labors of the past
that could bear no fruit?
Or am I burning? Do I have fire inside?
Is this the fuel that brings me to do
All the careless destructive things that I have done?

Shadows; shadows, they follow me round every bend.
Shadows can't see the mocking face I make at them,
But still their soft dark bodies convinces my mouth to reply.
Reply! Reply.
I reply.

Shadows of the past,
Dancing on my back.
Shadows won't leave.
They sleep and mate inside of me.

Shadows of the past,
Timidly I ask-
What could I feed you,
That you might give me peace at last?
Track Name: Home
On the street on which my home
crouches, perched, happily gesturing to traffic
Oh, my breathing slows there.

Right...
Right away, at the end of the road,
When I round the bend, leaving that friend,
The debris of home scatter throughout my mind.
They appear like curious chestnuts in fall,
And the shadow of the trees that keep this road so remote also
Harbor the debris, harbor the debris,
Clutching them in their thick, spiny leaves.

And when their claws retract,
Freeing the debris-

It takes one day to fall and a week to decompose
One day to fall and a week to decompose
One day to fall, or it may progress to
Roll on the street and be crushed to expose
the oily fruit within.
Track Name: When
Little eyebrow message, flirting.
I study every word!
Today, I choose to infer
That what I call 'your heart' is thinking of me...

Love!
Let me kiss you!
When?

Not soon enough...
Not close enough...
Not warm enough...
Not long enough...
My Love!

(Has he chosen to believe it?
Has he chosen to believe it?
Has he chosen to believe it?)

Even just a flirt can lift my spirit,
fill me with such hope!
Hope, hope, hope...

Even as the flirt is falling short,
I feel a beautiful space inside,
Where once rusty chains had been stored.

Her face is the one that breaks each link suddenly!
Bowing to her, I deliver comically
the statements I revealed previously,
That love had dissolved my soul's penitentiary.

Well I hope that I don't believe it,
I hope that I just take the flirt,
satisfied with what it is worth!

Have I chosen to believe it,
Have I chosen to believe it,
Have I chosen to believe it,
Have I chosen to believe it now?
Track Name: Lost
Have you taken to the wheel?
Rubber mat fused to your heel?
Looking for a home to feel?

How wanderlust must you be, must you act,
To keep a pace that can distract?
Keep your head from turning back?
Are you lost?
Track Name: Pull
It happened in the seat that I accidently had taken from a friend,
The lovers ' wanted seat.
it carries with it the smell of tender moments.
I breathe in this basket of desirous moments.

Wandering, my mind grazes the edge of a favorite past
a particular smile that erupted when I said,
I've grown more and more in love with you,
And her smile suggested her feelings were the same.
The same!

rejoicing in full, until I wander in the basket of my memories,
and there I come across a labour spent in vain, spent in vain!
I approach the present to remove the pull,
that has depressed my face into the chalkboard,
in which I have been staring off.

Coming between me and the class.
Coming between me and the task.
Coming between me and the class.
Track Name: Ride
I sat with you under the stars at night
That shy away from the jealous breeze.
I watched you with the little stars at night
That sink below the anxious hairs along the ridge..
Almost. Almost. Almost.
Almost.

Oh, my distinguished and almost existing guest,
The tactile remembrance that surround my fingers at best
will ride my heart to meet the numbing pain of such a lonely rest.

my neck won't turn its dusty head
my foot won't lift to the gentler curb
My eyes will rest their tired sparks
My shadow will hope not to disturb
the rust the rock the root and the rut.
Track Name: Full
Lovers carry their bloody cargo within them,
And never set their packs on the ground.
It's so full, it pulls at their shoulders,
Yet this cargo, they happily hold.

Pain is a blissful melody falling,
A reminder of days that were easy and fast.
A confirmation of passion left starving.
It will never sleep its cold rest.

my good friend, that I've known as sorrow,
He tugs on the dead and rotting limbs.
Have you seen him as he's shaking the crackling leaves
so that green leaves can grow once again?

I see them fall.
They're left. Alone.
They rot. They die.
They rot. They die.

If there were a body to that which I hold onto,
I would make love to it incessantly.
But addicted to the pleasure in feeling such pain,
I would strain to find a joyful feeling again.

Sorrow is shaking the tree limb,
There's happier times to come.
He's furiously sweeping my floor,
We're throwing a party.

He cleans the windows and shakes out the rugs
And I dance there, in the dust... the dusty air.
Track Name: Loss
The love that you invested,
Your lover can't return it.
They seem to have absorbed it.
They've left you empty handed.

Well what was this thing that you gave them?
Does it smell, does it burn, was it a burden?
Did you use it yourself before it past hands?
What really was this so-called 'love'?

Perhaps what you invested
was your sense of purpose.
You thought someone else could complete you.
You thought you weren't whole on your own.

but whole is the home that rests inside you,
And now is the moment you've been waiting for.
And now, too, the moment you've been waiting for!
Now, always serves to be your shelter.

Lover boy, what are you holding out for?
Do you know that you're addicted to loss?
It feeds the pain that lets your ego grow,
But this beast, a leach on your heavy heart,
Will speed its decay, drinking the blood lost.

Gray haired investor down in the stock exchange-
I think lovers know what it feels to be so lost.
If you knew no romance, well now you know the loss, Just that you can quantify the cost.

Perhaps what you invested
Was your sense of purpose.
you thought all that money could complete you.
you thought you weren't whole on your own.
Track Name: Love
Everyone has the right,
To love another person and be loved!
Everyone has the task,
To love another person and be loved!
Track Name: Guns
Lover boy on the battleground,
lift your fleshy gun,
and cross your hairs with lover girl.

laying down on the stadium,
Out behind the school.
I hope the night gives them some rest.

Is it stranger to pretend
I don't see? Walk on by?
If I cough, will the boy grow wild and chase me?

The question has passed as I enter the safety of the path.

(Thank you boy, thank you girl.
It's alright. It's all good.)

(Heavy breathing, heavy breathing...)

I had different plans but the lovers diverted my path,
So I lay witness to a thousand wild flowers,
Maybe making love, but to me it's scientific and cold,
Do I can watch, and even study in detail,
And count, in the moonlight, the pedals on a single head,
Though I don't find the number important.
It's the warm, anxious breathing from the humans I can hear from afar
That I pretend I can't hear anymore. But I will

Take the long route home,
and take stock in the beauty around me.