You stamped my name into the snow and I wrote you a love song. You said ‘I loved you when I met you, do you feel the same?’ and my cold heart burst right out of its frame. Hand in hand with the love we had. The scarf I knit for the neck I bit. Your sordid grin said ‘come on in.’ My cheeks were sore. I smiled more before that December, that’s how I remember. We came in from the cold and our glasses fogged and they clinked when we kissed, so I laughed aloud I said ‘I love you but I’m weary, do you feel the same?’ and you said ‘look at this picture of us in its pretty little frame.’ And I said no and you let go. The keys I lost and the mounting cost. The plant that died, the time I cried. Words we spoke, vows we broke and all these things dismembered, that’s how I remember. I could see that your cheeks were getting cold so I planted all these kisses, but they quickly froze. You said ‘I’d love it if you left me, do you feel the same?’ I said ‘Look at the snow collecting on your glasses frames.’ We’ll stamp our names into the snow and warm up with these dying embers, trying to remember.
Introspective, homespun folk tunes from John Donne that feel informed by the sugary bleakness of '80s and '90s indie pop. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 1, 2023
The first solo release in over a decade from Bev Lee Harling is a personal travelogue filled with euphoric compositions. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 20, 2021