Breathe Underwater by Days of Summer

We wake up at 4 AM
Drive to the shore
Set up our strings, cages, wings

Watching and waiting
Wading in water
Warm to the touch, sand golden brown

I don’t expect you to visit here
I don’t expect you before the end of the year

You
teacher, juror, tribe
Me
prodigal daughter scribe.

How can I speak
Heron and owl
Phone line goes flat again.

We gather in morning
harvest zucchini
Free them from their earthly bind.

Talk hypotheticals
Fuck parentheticals
Our ring of trailers, no locks on the doors.

I don’t expect you to follow me
From the edge of LA to the edge of the sea

You
How can you breathe underwater?
Me
Drowning prodigal daughter.

Drive past the deer of the night, sentinels in headlights,
while we sing a
tune.

Unearth a breezy dress
Almost Goodwill’d that.
Sharing my secrets on Tuesday nights.

My skin turns brown as I
walk through the days.
And I wonder if my gills
will ever fill out.

I don’t expect you to understand
But also I haven’t tried.

Now
I leave this behind.
Then
I’ll trust beyond my mind.
Now
I open my mouth and say hi.

Days when we met
Days in between
Measure something new.

• Folk
• beach folk
• coffeehouse
• folk rock
• indie folk
• indie rock
• lo-fi
• songwriter
• Austin