Get all 13 Tundra Records Group Artists releases available on Bandcamp and save 40%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of COMPASS, Mining the Temporary, Waiting For Angels, Dervish, Meaning, Cycles of Terger, Hatch: Original Soundtrack, Of Paper and Strings, and 5 more.
1. |
So, You
03:15
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so, you
12.08.04
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
looking at your picture on the wall beneath the light
a slice into the amber and a moment’s nod to night
and miles blindly walked through all those unremembered parks
and horoscoped predictions
bouncing off some charlie’s chart
so, you — I can’t believe you’re gone
so, you — I can’t believe we’re wrong
so, you — love, it’s been so long
so, you’ve — become the newest song
shadows make their ribbons
from the orange city skies
as the roar of all the world is
silenced by your quiet cries
and when the dawn comes
kissing through the curtain’s filmy gauze
too soon it comes to missing
and assigning of the cause
so, you — I can’t believe you’re gone
so, you — I can’t believe we’re wrong
so, you — love, it’s been so long
so, you’ve — become the newest song
text becomes the cynic
as we both play in-box tag
and timing grows more limits
and neither breaks the gag
non-conversations distant
feather off into the black
as neither of us sacrifice
enough to get us back
so, you — I can’t believe you’re gone
so, you — I can’t believe we’re wrong
so, you — love, it’s been so long
so, you’ve — become the newest song
five winters, four summers, springs and often falls
pictures painted,
paintings washed out by a rain that covers all
so, you — I can’t believe you’re gone
so, you — I can’t believe we’re wrong
so, you — love, it’s been so long
so, you’ve — become the newest song
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2. |
Waiting For Angels
04:20
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waiting for angels
08.10.04
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
brushing the last of the crumbs from her fingers
smoothing her skirt and adjusting her socks
gesturing flies off the pools of spilled margerine
magna cum laude the school of hard knocks
dogs in the yard lift their muzzles in hope
she leans through the doorway open and bare
rusty cars and old empties —
decayed Tonkas and rope
the overgrown histories, decay and declare
waiting for angels she knows were forgotten
lost in the blue of an ocean of things
waiting for angels alone on a roadside
wheat fields still ripple from their soft beating wings
home comes her man with frustration, exhaustion
treading the mill and still grasping at straws
putting food on the table keep a car up; pay taxes
below all that radar, ignored by these laws
forgetting gets harder amidst the Old Crowing
the tempo starts pushing up fahrenheit red
the blaming and shouting the crying things throwing
tangled sheets and I’m sorries, they make up in bed
waiting for angels she knows were forgotten...
inventing her future from a present in shambles
erasing the blackness with a spraypainted white
fighting the good fight and ignoring the gambles
juggling the books every day every night
arms stretched to Heaven faith strained to breaking
what kind of sin is deserving of this fate
walls cracked and falling
everybody is taking low roads
now floating on the oil spills of hate
waiting for angels...
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3. |
The Turns We Take
05:09
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the turns we take
07.02.05
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
flipping over hidden postcards
from a softly checkered past
so many forks so many roads
with so much rock still yet to blast
she finds me in the last imagined
places that I want to be
drenched with sweat, sunglasses slipping,
“how are you?” is what’s asked of me
could I have a moment to change history
— could I have a moment to remake?
might not the fates just grant a quiet peace of time to swim through love we make
can’t I just ignore these empty spaces
— can’t I just ignore what most forsake
and overcome the fates that keep us
separated by all these turns we take
archived ripples passion filed in
dark blue rooms of memory locked
silences become the decades since
we last sat down and talked
words they mean so much between us
soft syllables hold the heaven’s earth
you speak of pain you speak of joy
— I marvel in a delicate mirth
could I have a moment to make longer
— could I have a moment stopped in time
might not the fates just grant a quiet place
for us to fly through lines we rhyme
can’t I just ignore these empty houses
— can’t I just ignore each daily fake
and overcome the fates that keep us
separated by all these turns we take
floating by those aisles of shelving
pregnant with each Dewey’d age
awareness of each second passing
I’m worlds away when you close the page
so strong within — this image of you
the deep, green smells of August walks
the bed we make’s the one we sleep in
— private sadness covered by friendly talks
could I have a moment to change history
— could I have a moment to remake
might not the fates just grant a quiet peace of time to swim through love we make
can’t I just ignore these empty spaces
— can’t I just ignore what most forsake
and overcome the fates that keep us
separated by all these turns we take
could I have a moment to imagine
— could I have a moment to create
might not the fates ignore for one more time
this private, selfish yearning, late
could we find a moment for together
— could we find a moment just to share
these turns we take, into completion’s threshold
or they can keep us waiting there
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4. |
Bones In The Sand
04:22
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bones in the sand
08.10.04
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
peeping through the crevice
of a hundred million years
the way this love’s evolving
leads all patience off the cliff
creeping through the twilight
of a decade once too near
the way this love’s resolving
pleads the echo of what if
and why can’t I resuscitate
these bones in the sand
and build a garden trellis
and put the roses in your hair
tell me why can’t I regenerate
the warmth of your hands
fall back into those waters
of a promise waiting there
of a promise waiting there
the wind toys with the sands
exposing frames once trapped in time
they wait for a museum
just to speculate on truth
how can two lives so intertwined at heart
still be so distant
how can two souls so disregard
the signposts of their youth
and why can’t I resuscitate
these bones in the sand
and build a garden trellis
and put the roses in your hair
tell me why can’t I regenerate
the warmth of your hands
fall back into those waters of
a promise waiting there
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5. |
The Assuming Dark
04:28
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the assuming dark
09.16.04
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
circling histories repeating themselves
— advantages taken of truncated lives
one generation dominates the other
— burying the evidence, washing the knives
gramma was clear on good and evil
but allowed the fringes of black and white
where complex strands of gray co-mingle
and never say for or against the night
what of these crack pots and their semi autos?
what of these pacifists torching themselves?
loading up on ammo in a Montana meadow
or facing chain saws in a redwood hell
the assuming dark approaches clearly
— the northern hemispheres contract their light
these humans huddled, alone together
trying to ferret the day from night
the assuming dark blankets softly
— allowing stars where there is no power
these humans crying, alone
— together creating hurdles that grow into towers
a world economy based on war
— commerce based on taking it all
sharing only with advantages proven
— great empires never realize their fall
prodding diversity to make it all march to drummers that howl behind every turn
the soul of the rich as a pawn shop owner
crushing the innocent with money to burn
what of grown infants and their rush to judgement?
attempting to legislate behavior, routine
what of hearing God’s voice from the mountains
justifying an empire too large to be seen
the assuming dark approaches clearly
— the northern hemispheres contract their light
these humans huddled, alone together
trying to ferret the day from night
the assuming dark blankets softly
— allowing stars where there is no power
these humans crying, alone
— together creating hurdles that grow into towers
and what of you and what of me?
do we operate on a basis of truth?
are we moving pieces across life’s gameboard?
is it all we learned from wasted youth?
the assuming dark approaches clearly
— the northern hemispheres contract their light
these humans huddled, alone together
trying to ferret the day from night
the assuming dark blankets softly
— allowing stars where there is no power
these humans crying, alone
— together creating hurdles that grow into towers
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6. |
Under a Willow Spreading
03:22
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under a willow spreading
08.10.04
Peter Bruce wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
I received your message (voice)
while driving back from Maine
it made my mouth taste yearning
and a subtle sting of pain
so why can’t I just call you back
to find you, make the drive
and complicate this life of lack
and share a reason, live
under a willow spreading
in the hammock by the lake
I couldn’t hear the dreading ‘
cause of choices that we’d make
and hindsight, twenty-twenty
is too easy to enjoy
under a willow spreading
— you a girl and me, a boy
every day I dream it:
to show up at your door
imagining you mean it
when you kiss me to the floor
we ditch the cars in Potsdam
clear the border, heading west
and then the colors vanish
as the conscious does its best
under a willow spreading
in the hammock by the lake
I couldn’t hear the dreading
‘cause of choices that we’d make
and hindsight, twenty-twenty
is too easy to enjoy
under a willow spreading
— you a girl and me, a boy
and time becomes a nuisance
and “responsible” the king
we’re propertied and familied
indebted to these things
so would you if I asked you:
turn your back on all of this
to pursue an ancient promise
kept within a gentle kiss
under a willow spreading
in the hammock by the lake
I couldn’t hear the dreading
‘cause of choices that we’d make
and hindsight, twenty-twenty
is too easy to enjoy
under a willow spreading
— you a girl and me, a boy
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7. |
The Big, Big Lie
03:10
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the big, big lie
08.10.04
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earllines, BMI
it started when you learned to spell
the word: ramifications
you called up all your friends
the week your parents had vacations
you disavowed the broken places,
dented fender, and the shattered vases
innocently dumb and mute
and smiling through your braces
so now you’re all grown up
you’ve told the big, big lie
because if you revealed the real
you’d look just like the fool
so keep up the appearances
and tell the big, big lie
embroidery expands the deal
and keeps the image cool
service with a smile
as if the pillows insulated
the stress scent from your pores
as you frictioned and gyrated
it’s not that I suspected
what your mannerisms showed me
it wasn’t undetected,
but the magnitude still bowed me
so now you’re all grown up
you’ve told the big, big lie
it’s not quite presidential
though impressive in its scope
so let’s keep up appearances
and tell the big, big lie
it seems so residential
as you struggle just to cope
truth is as truth gets
never pure or quite compelling
truth hurts as truth lets
never sure, it’s in the telling
service with a smile
as if the pillows insulated
the stress scent of your pores
as you frictioned and gyrated
it’s not that I suspected
what your mannerisms showed me
and it wasn’t undetected,
but the magnitude still bowed me
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8. |
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closeup of a one sided love
08.25.04
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
bringing you closer
my hands on your waist
we bathe in this fragrance
anticipate taste
I brush off the strands
of your deep midnight hair
you make us both tremble
our lips paused and bare
we talk of ageless and timeless and trials
comparing the distance examining the miles
if history’s consumed in a fury of pasts
why does this place in our two souls still last?
if ever there was a stopping of worlds
it’s when we first kissed universes unfurled
these infinite cosmos at once and revealed
the meaning of all was never repealed
It just a close up of a one-sided love
I’ve been here before, I’ll be here again...
and again and again and again
rarely the same I expect this is true
the moment one sided or was it you too?
our road choices since painting turns upon turns
away from each other tell me what did we learn?
for me it’s these dreams that keep on reoccurring
the thorough immersion and 3 a.m. stirring
and waking with all of your essence still haunting
your smile beguiling and me still and wanting
if ever there was a stopping of worlds
it’s when we first kissed universes unfurled
these infinite cosmos at once and revealed
the meaning of all was never repealed
It just a close up of a one-sided love...
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9. |
I Heard You Crying
04:42
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I heard you crying
09.16.04
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
I heard you crying
and groping through your hurting
scaling the harsh cliffs of denial,
and meanness and blame
my hands all knotted, and bound up
and restrained beyond reason
these borders defined
keep a wall ‘round your flame
I heard you crying in the stillness of silence
moving slowly through these valleys
with their thousand foot walls
I heard you crying alone
with the stars in your bedroom
if only you’d let me, I’d reverse your fall
If I offered to hold you so close,
tell me, would you let me?
behind stone walls of pride,
hiding closed and locked rooms of betrayal
how much would you gamble away
for a sanctuary of pure contentment
how hazardous is this rocky terrain
of souls, all too frail
I heard you crying in the stillness of silence
moving slowly through these valleys
with their thousand foot walls
I heard you crying alone
with the stars in your bedroom
if only you’d let me, I’d reverse your fall
what was it you said
in the middle of your dream
that now isn’t as important
as the day once seemed
seeking a place you once
caught a glimpse of in my eyes
standing down the obstacles
and embracing the prize
you’re curled up in blankets
the night still decended
it’s all I can do to retreat from
this advantaged refrain
your dreams so much better
than what you always feel waking
I yearn to embrace to absorb
and to heal all your pain
I hear you crying in the stillness of silence
moving slowly through these valleys
with their thousand foot walls
I heard you crying alone
with the stars in your bedroom
if only you’d let me, I’d reverse your fall
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10. |
The End of the Day
03:30
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the end of the day
02.19.07
Peter Bruce Wilder
copyright 2007 Maplewood/Earlines, BMI
the end of the day caresses my forehead
and blankets my earth with a star-quilt of dreams
the end of the day brings all lines in focus
and tallies the worth and softens the screams
lavender airs mixed with woodsmoke and frost
for so many years I’d forgotten the cost
of making repairs unto moments thought lost
and finding them waiting for you
the end of the day when Azure trumps Amber
and Azure surprised when covered by Night
the end of the day responses that camber
and gaze into eyes filled with echoing light
deep diving sun strains to plowshare the skies
the moonlight shows paintings of stars in your eyes
if urgent is wanting and melding: the prize
promises have no refrain
the end of the day candlelight flickers
the dogs breathe their sighs and absorb the warm fire
though darkness enshrouds
there’s hours before embers
and no wayward clouds to dim moonlight’s desire
goodwill to all and then bring peace on earth
it seems all so simple and so much the worth
when holding you close in the comforter’s mirth
and silhouette you with my hands
the end of the day caresses my forehead...
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Tundra Records Group Artists Hyde Park, Vermont
Tundra Records Group was formed to record and support the recording and production for committed artists in their quest for
artistic and professional recognition. Specializing in singer-songwriters, Tundra has been directly involved with the creation of over a dozen independent releases.
For more info, please contact us at:
Tundra Records Group
P.O. Box 302
Hyde Park, Vermont 05655-0302
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