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lyrics

WOMAN, WALKING

Hot, dark night in the city
Rain machineguns the sidewalk, which steams like a griddle
We follow a woman walking quickly and with purpose; long coat, collar up

The rain
Headlights smear across her
A wind blows
Taxi horns blare
Footsteps
Footsteps

The rain
We follow her into a narrow alleyway strewn with garbage. She steps over the body of a dead animal, perhaps a dog

She makes her way toward a blue door; she stops

Maybe she is running from something
Maybe she is running toward something

She draws on her cigarette, yet the orange glow fails to illuminate her face, and we are forced to consider the idea that she has no face. Maybe she has many faces, yet in this moment is not in need of any of them

She approaches the blue door, stops again and flicks her cigarette, which we watch arc through the darkness and the rain before winking out of existence in an oil-slicked puddle; despite the rain and the noise of the city night, we believe we hear the hiss of its death

Looking back, she is gone, gone where we cannot follow, the blue door slowly closing

She is gone where we cannot follow

She is gone

She is gone

She is gone

credits

from RED DREAM AT DEEP DELL PLACE, released April 6, 2023

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unsong London, UK

Pseudo-faceless vibrational dream-self of author Mason Ball and disreputable Lynchian figment Benjamin Louche: a non-holy trinity of drone, tone and happenstance tintinnabulation, with added audio white elephant.

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