The Arch-Artist solitude symbolized
amidst an old forest, feral and fecund.
A garbage pile sits for to be realized,
waiting patiently for tolled time to come.
The shapes decayed from cold Cartesian grace,
rusting and red as they assimilate.
A difference displayed against nature’s space
with lines and planes she can't create.
Kitchen sink and cans, scattered pots and pans,
the estranged remains of a personal past,
left far away from the reach of human hands.
I wonder when they were used last.
And the forest feels your wrath,
if you could only have heard her laugh.
And you wonder about your size.
You’re too big for those tiny eyes.
At the bottom of the hill there’s shot gun shells
with broken glass and branches dead,
to make room for the light that seethes and swells.
Oh you know the joy of destruction and dread.
The Arch-Artist solitude symbolized
amidst an old forest, feral and fecund.
A garbage pile sits for to be realized,
waiting patiently for tolled time to come.
And the forest feels your wrath,
if you could only have heard her laugh.
And you wonder about your size.
You’re too big for those tiny eyes.
Babehoven returns with another record of indie folk songs about love, connection, and the fragility of human relationships. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 24, 2024
The Australian folk-pop singer tackles deconstruction, her Christian childhood, and sexuality on her infectious sophomore album. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 14, 2023