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lyrics

At this first glow of the morning the water is as still as glass
There is no wind even here high in the mountains
It is August but our breath steams out from our noses like smoke
There is not enough heat to drive even the tiniest breeze
The mirrored surface reflects its’ soulless twin
An image though accurate reflects only infinite perfection and an intoxicating illusion

On such a morning a pebble might fly
Heaved as far as the solitary boy can muster
It drops with an inside out plop far out into the lake
Concentric perfect waves roll away from the center of the disturbance
The trees begin to melt and shake
The rising peak wobbles like a drunken paint mixer
As the waves begin to fade at the center the leading ring seems to grow
All rushing towards me with gleaming leading edges
Pulling the surface downwards as each wave passes
Soon they hit the shore with tiny laps of splash
Each rolling wave creates a sound a mile long
And rebound back to fight against the their approaching brothers
One small pebble one bit of earth breaking that glass skin

credits

from Highway 89: A Travelogue, released November 15, 2017

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Fyrce Muons San Diego, California

Forty five years of gothic space punk and electro pop reminiscent of Krautrock. Fyrce Muons continue to defy any musical genre with their provocative concept albums, improvisational and surrealistic spoken word.

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