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11​:​11

from no mud no lotus by Sarah Osborne

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about

more of a poem then a song. 11:11 is a magical thing to see on the clock, if you are ever fortunate to catch this minute, make a wish, savour that moment, and remember to be thankful for our awesome existence. The riff you hear as the bed for my words was composed by the very talented Mike Murdoch many years ago, we nicknamed it 'the bed time song'. It is a melody that always has and always will soothe me very deeply. This beautiful image was created by the oh so gifted Robin Clugston​.

lyrics

The sun is going down, there’s lots left
Thank you for clasping your hands
Making a place for my shoe to step
And lifting me up, helping me catch my breath.

But how could I have known better?
If I did I wouldn’t have the chance to reflect on it all now.
As winter sends its last parade through town.
I take my black mirror, smash it on the ground.
Really though, could I throw I off this cliff?
Dare I cause such mischief?

What would it be like to run my fingers through your hair?
Instead of gaze a gazedly stare
At your pixeled picture there
To laugh in wisdom
In unison once again

Darling this pain is so real
When can we be friends? Or more?
For really in this space and time
I see many fish in the sea
Let us not be ghosts lost in time,
For you are the salmon I seek.

Swim, swim to the river up the stream
Lay me down in the pebbly creek
There, we will create my love, we will dream
Music turning as the water flows around a melody.
Catches the light, yes we are alive.

This life, will you share it with me?
My only request, with my hands across my chest,
Is that you send me back to the sea.
This journey, will you share it with me?
Come back to me, my kindred spirit,
Come back to me.

11:11:11:11:11:11:11:11:11:11:11

credits

from no mud no lotus, released March 1, 2018

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Sarah Osborne image

Sarah Osborne Victoria, British Columbia

Sarah's sultry voice is a colourful velvet painting in a second-hand store. Exotic, dark, and textured, it beckons us, in its nostaglia, to bring it home and hang it on the wall, to remind us of a time that was, and a part of ourselves that is sweet, simple, and real. ... more

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