Fallen saints with broken bones
And nothing to lay their heads on
Lost the key to Heaven’s gate
And tried learn how to create
They thought they knew from what they read
But what was trailing through their heads
Was nothing but a wise man’s tale
Grown so old, rotten stale
They tried to refute the dirt ‘neath their boots
Get used to the groundwork and not convolute
The visions that they had once had that had now been untrue
Fallen saints with hard surprise
Leaking out of their old eyes
Thought the Earth to be a charm
Wrapped ‘round the finger of he who won’t harm
There’s history in oceans blue
That they were all unprivy to
And stories that the buildings have
That surround the trees where supposedly man
Once roamed dumb and bare and bereft of a care
Never knowing the future that would soon be there
And the millions of others who sleep and think all is unfair
Fallen saints with warped ideals
Look upon the streets and fields
And curse the name who said he owned
Everything there and now gives no hope
A tragedy for every day
They wanted to just stay away
From what they knew as magic land
And snap off the fingers from the wretched right hand
They woke up in shock thought the gates were still locked
And still sincerely thought that the man was all talk
But decided it just turns out better to believe what you want
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 15, 2024
Michelle Stodart’s folk music captures hope in melancholy, addressing the transformational aspects of the most challenging times. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 3, 2023