WHOEVER FELT MOVED TO SPEAK (feat. Frankie Porter)
๐ต 1629 characters
โฑ๏ธ 2:48 duration
๐ ID: 24016332
๐ Lyrics
The middle and older brothers
Watched the youngest brother run, wailing
From the towering shadow back to the safety of the farm
Before a beam of stray daylight revealed the beast to be
Nothing more than a bird perched atop a gnarled fallen tree
"The Well of Riches is not far" croaked the skull
And so they pressed on, deeper into the forest
Every sundown, without fail, the people of St. Sasha
Not all of them but always some
Would gather at the western shore
At the base of a towering rock stack
And they would tell each other fairytales
There's nothing unusual about a society with a storytelling tradition
It is arguably a defining characteristic of a society
To have a tapestry of stories
Some true outright
Most true in some form
But sometimes lessons and values and moral laws
Codified as familiar tales
Told and retold and retold again
From one generation to the next over centuries
Except here, on St. Sasha, things were done differently
Of every fairytale told
And we are not talking hundreds here
We are likely talking hundreds of thousands
Not one of them was ever written down or stored away
There were no old favourites brought out for special occasions
Each tale was recited only once
And never ever repeated
There were no designated storytellers either
As you might find in other communities
One evening it could be a fisherman exhausted by a days work
Who would yet feel compelled to weave a fairytale
For those who came to watch the sun sink into the western sea
The next sundown, it might be a child
And the next somebody else
The role seemed to fall to whoever felt moved to speak
And somebody always was
Watched the youngest brother run, wailing
From the towering shadow back to the safety of the farm
Before a beam of stray daylight revealed the beast to be
Nothing more than a bird perched atop a gnarled fallen tree
"The Well of Riches is not far" croaked the skull
And so they pressed on, deeper into the forest
Every sundown, without fail, the people of St. Sasha
Not all of them but always some
Would gather at the western shore
At the base of a towering rock stack
And they would tell each other fairytales
There's nothing unusual about a society with a storytelling tradition
It is arguably a defining characteristic of a society
To have a tapestry of stories
Some true outright
Most true in some form
But sometimes lessons and values and moral laws
Codified as familiar tales
Told and retold and retold again
From one generation to the next over centuries
Except here, on St. Sasha, things were done differently
Of every fairytale told
And we are not talking hundreds here
We are likely talking hundreds of thousands
Not one of them was ever written down or stored away
There were no old favourites brought out for special occasions
Each tale was recited only once
And never ever repeated
There were no designated storytellers either
As you might find in other communities
One evening it could be a fisherman exhausted by a days work
Who would yet feel compelled to weave a fairytale
For those who came to watch the sun sink into the western sea
The next sundown, it might be a child
And the next somebody else
The role seemed to fall to whoever felt moved to speak
And somebody always was
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[00:01.28] The middle and older brothers
[00:03.11] Watched the youngest brother run, wailing
[00:06.10] From the towering shadow back to the safety of the farm
[00:10.17] Before a beam of stray daylight revealed the beast to be
[00:14.63] Nothing more than a bird perched atop a gnarled fallen tree
[00:20.77] "The Well of Riches is not far" croaked the skull
[00:26.73] And so they pressed on, deeper into the forest
[00:41.55] Every sundown, without fail, the people of St. Sasha
[00:46.66] Not all of them but always some
[00:49.18] Would gather at the western shore
[00:53.87] At the base of a towering rock stack
[00:58.76] And they would tell each other fairytales
[01:03.77] There's nothing unusual about a society with a storytelling tradition
[01:07.67] It is arguably a defining characteristic of a society
[01:13.33] To have a tapestry of stories
[01:18.21] Some true outright
[01:19.35] Most true in some form
[01:20.55] But sometimes lessons and values and moral laws
[01:24.08] Codified as familiar tales
[01:27.65] Told and retold and retold again
[01:29.30] From one generation to the next over centuries
[01:31.92] Except here, on St. Sasha, things were done differently
[01:43.68] Of every fairytale told
[01:45.64] And we are not talking hundreds here
[01:46.99] We are likely talking hundreds of thousands
[01:49.66] Not one of them was ever written down or stored away
[01:55.53] There were no old favourites brought out for special occasions
[02:01.27] Each tale was recited only once
[02:05.38] And never ever repeated
[02:10.36] There were no designated storytellers either
[02:12.97] As you might find in other communities
[02:16.86] One evening it could be a fisherman exhausted by a days work
[02:22.15] Who would yet feel compelled to weave a fairytale
[02:24.97] For those who came to watch the sun sink into the western sea
[02:30.93] The next sundown, it might be a child
[02:34.79] And the next somebody else
[02:37.93] The role seemed to fall to whoever felt moved to speak
[02:45.46] And somebody always was
[02:47.05]
[00:03.11] Watched the youngest brother run, wailing
[00:06.10] From the towering shadow back to the safety of the farm
[00:10.17] Before a beam of stray daylight revealed the beast to be
[00:14.63] Nothing more than a bird perched atop a gnarled fallen tree
[00:20.77] "The Well of Riches is not far" croaked the skull
[00:26.73] And so they pressed on, deeper into the forest
[00:41.55] Every sundown, without fail, the people of St. Sasha
[00:46.66] Not all of them but always some
[00:49.18] Would gather at the western shore
[00:53.87] At the base of a towering rock stack
[00:58.76] And they would tell each other fairytales
[01:03.77] There's nothing unusual about a society with a storytelling tradition
[01:07.67] It is arguably a defining characteristic of a society
[01:13.33] To have a tapestry of stories
[01:18.21] Some true outright
[01:19.35] Most true in some form
[01:20.55] But sometimes lessons and values and moral laws
[01:24.08] Codified as familiar tales
[01:27.65] Told and retold and retold again
[01:29.30] From one generation to the next over centuries
[01:31.92] Except here, on St. Sasha, things were done differently
[01:43.68] Of every fairytale told
[01:45.64] And we are not talking hundreds here
[01:46.99] We are likely talking hundreds of thousands
[01:49.66] Not one of them was ever written down or stored away
[01:55.53] There were no old favourites brought out for special occasions
[02:01.27] Each tale was recited only once
[02:05.38] And never ever repeated
[02:10.36] There were no designated storytellers either
[02:12.97] As you might find in other communities
[02:16.86] One evening it could be a fisherman exhausted by a days work
[02:22.15] Who would yet feel compelled to weave a fairytale
[02:24.97] For those who came to watch the sun sink into the western sea
[02:30.93] The next sundown, it might be a child
[02:34.79] And the next somebody else
[02:37.93] The role seemed to fall to whoever felt moved to speak
[02:45.46] And somebody always was
[02:47.05]