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Trumpet

from Self​-​Titled by Ian Miles

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lyrics

Forced to the trees
The orange-faced choir
With pale and failing voices
Huddle around the campfire
To hum low like machines
On this winter’s night
They recall when they could sing in the light

I want to see the forest
I want to see the doors of Boston
I wish my tongue was worth more
Than a trumpet played for the first time

There was a time before
Any of us knew that they were there
As apparent as a shadow
But as important as the sun
They sang the soundtrack to our days
The only reward was our boot-mark
For we tossed no coins we just walked by
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

I want to see the train smoke
I want to kneel to new altars
I want to raise my bones
Like hands to the sky
I want to see the desert
I want to see Parthenon
I want to feel the power
Of an unknowable spirit
Because right now I can’t tell a storm from a star
And everyday I have to ask where we are
And your voice sounds better
Than a trumpet played for the first time
I mean really, really played for the first time

credits

from Self​-​Titled, released January 25, 2010

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about

Ian Miles Spokane

Ian Miles is an independent singer-songwriter based out of Spokane, WA.
His Music has been described and "a little cool and a little weird – in a good way" and "very story-telling".
Sometimes mellow and bittersweet; a songbird at your window sill and at other times a thunderous full-throated roar of emotive stomping and hollering like a wild preacher of the end-times!
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