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The Dear Hunter




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  T  →  The Dear Hunter  →  Albums  →  Act I: The Lake South, The River North

The Dear Hunter Album


Act I: The Lake South, The River North (09/26/2006)
09/26/2006
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Believe you me, the price is clear
A child born, the mother near.
To death and life, as hand in hand,
A failed life exposed the man
Who led her off into the flame
To cast her back to hell again.

But, hear you me, the break of dawn
Will wash away the sins thereof.
Unto the lake, beyond the tree,
The child waits, alone is he.

The flame is gone, the fire remains. (x6)

. . .


(Instrumental)

. . .


Please, what happened to the flame?
(It burned down the sides)
With a fondness for cooking history, revealing thoughts of Ms Terri.
In the heat of the night, a woman wealthy of a parous plight erased a harlots life.

Plagued by practical and a mercenary lust they tear at her at her skin
(The trouble began, it would never end)

Clawing at her throat with a smell of desperate and a lack of regret
(The trouble began, it would never end)

Free, pardoned by the flame.
(That burned down the sides)
Her feet began to bleed between the seams, but she persisted to the streets.

In the heat of the night, the river rendered the chance she surely needs to stay alive.

Plagued by practical and a mercenary lust they tear at her at her skin
(The trouble began, it would never end)

Clawing at her throat with a smell of desperate and a lack of regret
(The trouble began, it would never end)

Oh, but her breath escapes her.
Oh, but the pulse remains.
Oh, but her breath escapes her.
Oh, but her pulse remains.

Places, People, the stage is set
(X2)

Plagued by practical and a mercenary lust they tear at her at her skin
(The trouble began, it would never end)

Clawing at her throat with a smell of desperate and a lack of regret
(The trouble began, it would never end)
(X2)

. . .


A hope removed, a life resumed right here. And the Priest and the Rosary, the buck and the bond between me and me has long since broken. A boy who’s grown, too short to see, a table unfolds, to chagrin(?). A life once lived behind closed doors, the irony of the imprecate hold?

Such taste(?) feel it ripping me down. A reprise, two times, that time, burn it to the ground.

The euchre(?) of mystery, the expiry of misery, the table turns, the sun long, the river bed, and he’s alone. The object of affection, conflicted by convictions of indecency, sorority, corrupted by impropriety. The cavalier, she holds of him, in dissonance with experience, a boy who grows, with knife in hand, to fend for her, becomes a man. But she plays fake affection, and carefully lacks subjection, to a gentleman (processed?) twisted desires.

Such taste(?) feel it ripping me down. A reprise, two times, that time, burn it to the ground.

We dance around the room, my love I’ll carry you, and I’ll teach you how to (I can’t understand the last part of this sentence). We dance around the truth, my dear I lie for you, but when I lie down, I’m simply lying to them too

. . .


We got away, we got away and survived.
Stunned by the shock and fearing what's behind.
Everything you thought you lived and died for,
Every reason leading you to here.
All of the sounds have trickled past your introspective ear,
In an attempt to discover what's behind.

Branches twisting, reaching for the sky
Hands extending, waiting for this

Fell in another hole
For the knife, for the knife
Loss of control
For the knife, for the knife
I'm in another hole
For the knife, for the knife
Bleed myself dry
Save my life' Save my life'.

Fell in another hole
For the knife, for the knife
Loss of control
For the knife, for the knife

Hands inflected clearly point my way,
Stunned by the sight and fearing what exists,
Everything you thought you lived and died for,
Every reason leading you to here,
All of the sounds have trickled past your introspective ear,
In an attempt to discover what's behind'

Fell in another hole
For the knife, for the knife
Loss of control
For the knife, for the knife
I'm in another hole
For the knife, for the knife
Bleed myself dry
Save my life' Save my life'.

Fell in another hole
For the knife, for the knife
Loss of control
For the knife, for the knife

. . .


(Take me to the river)

The pimp and the priest pounce on quickened cat’s feet for the freshest young blood in sin’s for the feast. The book will then brew what the sinful commit; while the pimp and the priest prey quietly where the precious sinners sit.

Confessal confess, in the chapel, the brothel, where we suffocate stress. We’ve got the time if you’ve got the scratch (don’t give[?] your sins while she screams on her back).

Faster, save me! (I’ve since remained hostage[?]) Harder(?) I can’t breath!

Now the priest and the pimp are already equipped with an enigmatic frontage post (something) we’ll come walking. So we corner(?) our pace and make quick for the door, to be prodded and passed from the bed to the floor.

Confessal confess, in the chapel, the brothel, where we suffocate stress. We’ve got the time if you’ve got the scratch (don’t cure[?] your sins while she screams on her back).

Take me to the river (repeat x2)

Faster, save me! (I’ve since remained hostage[?]) Harder(?) I can’t breath!

Sing softly, sing me to the lake. Sing softly, bring me to the lake.

Faster, save me! (I’ve since remained hostage[?]) Harder(?) I can’t breath!

Sing softly, sing me to the lake. Sing softly, bring me to the lake

. . .


A long walk home, riddled with regret.

Uncommonly comfortable, but still I believe that in time I'll see just whats been weighing down on me.

An unearthy void, collapsed, exposing what was trapped, to release this serendipitous dissent.

The smell of smoke, the evening sky was bruised. Belated conversation, saturate anticipation for the answers that simply wont come, but not I, I wont ask. Forget my place amongst the grass. The leaves and the trees remember me and in my na�vety it might be seen; the pale has leaks, and even if you put all your water into it, you end up with nothing left to drink. The well has gone dry and I with it.

Oh, someday she'll be gone.
Oh, someday she'll be gone.
Oh, someday she'll be gone.
Oh, someday she'll be gone.

We'll still have a song to sing,
We'll still have a song to sing,
We'll still have a song to sing,
We'll still have a song to sing.

Sing softly, bring it to the left,
Sing softly, bring it to the left,
Sing softly, bring it to the left,
Sing softly, bring it to the left.

Sing softly, sing it to the left,
Sing softly, sing it to the left,
Sing softly, bring it to the left
Sing softly, sing it to the left,
Sing softly, bring it to the left....

. . .


(Instrumental)

. . .


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