Spinning round in my sand, as it surely hours down
All this heat turns to glass, like a lightening storm bolt
As you’re tossed in my wake, at the edge of my firmament
And projected to stay, like these flickering reels
What kind of love is this, where I’m hesitant to call you my own
And still I cannot clear the greed of you casting for compliments of all I have to give
Yet lets call it the truth, facts have sunk me thus far
Is this blessed by ordeal, or are you meeting out baptism
Here I’ll love you again, each time bearing you less
Less to feel sorry for, less to come back to me for, less is the most that I tenderly give
What kind of love is this, where I cannot help but call you my own
Now that you’ve given all to me there is no casting for compliments of
All you have to give
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 27, 2022
This sweet, mournful “loose concept” album from folk artist Ian McCuen tracks a journey across the bleak landscape of American life. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 22, 2022