From a Cabin and a Bedroom

by Feralia

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This album contains songs that were previously recorded and written the summer of 2011 while on a camping trip with my wife. The rest were written by Jeffrey Braitling and myself in the fall of 2011. They were either recorded in the loft of a cabin in Errol, New Hampshire in November 2011 or in my bedroom in early December 2011.

This album also contains some of my most personal songs. It also contains some of our most "cryptic". Though I can't speak for the meaning behind Jeff's songs, I like to think, the 5 tracks together carry a large metaphysical theme behind them. I'd like to think that many meanings can be drawn from each song.


released December 19, 2011



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Feralia Saugerties, New York

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Track Name: Silence Between
She lets her hair down slow. Single strands start to fall. To join the universe in ever lasting motion. To bury itself in the dark night sky.

The planets align, the moon comes out to shine. The grapes on the vine are ready for wine.

The water glides through one palm at a time. As the sun sits high, in the afternoon sky. She's face down in the sand as the wind dries our skin.

The planets align, the moon comes out to shine. The grapes on the vine are ready for wine.

The trees kiss the stars as they dance with the shadows. Birds sleep in their arms, while they have none to hold them. A shiver in their bark is cured the morning after.

The planets align, the moon comes out to shine. The grapes on the vine are ready for wine.
Track Name: Primer
The Paint that drips, it bleeds, it dries, it peels. A hill we climb, the scenery profound. We take it in then we pour it out. A picture I make and give to you. A beetle at rest, beloved by all. A smile and a lie, the blood of a reptile. The sun that was so warm, is now gone. Reflections of you in the dark. This ring has a beginning and an end, that leads to a center of a cold wind. There are ghosts waiting to come out of our throats. Where there once was laughter, now there's just sad old dreams of what could have been. And where the dead aren't so dead any longer. And the soles of your feet might be cleaner than your soul. The soles of our feet might be cleaner than our souls. And your soles might be cleaner than your soul.
Track Name: The Hanging Garden
The mills have me this way. Always falling away. So hard I try to reach. So little left to grab. My heart so weak. Slowing, slowing, slowing down.

My mouth has so little to speak, for my eyes tell my tale. For that night of broken glass ended up breaking everything else. I held on tight but was pushed astray.

From where the shadows lurk, my world they did shake and made my visage a sickly teal. The hardest shell left to peal. And soon my mind was that of a kaleidoscope.

Alas, there was no beautiful imagery but instead the burning of the Hanging Gardens.