With endless caffeine high, we drive the open road. Endless sticks to smoke and songs of new and old. The mountains wave us by the towns blink of an eye. Well, do not sleep my dear, the oils pain the sky. My stomach twists and turns with each and every curve. The tall trees canopy and shade us for some time. As the wind blows hard across the olden graves, I feel there is something more. I feel it's raging waves. So hear the thunder roar and smell them sizzling eggs. This land is a dinosaur and we're just babies, babe. So hold me close. It's dark in here. You hold the quiet close and I find that home is here. Ghost gardens and wild flowers grow across sidewalks. We have these days to hold and bend like the corn stalks. So while we root ourselves and love, bleed, and cry. These are just stepping stones of what is so called life. So hold me close. It's dark in here. You hold the quiet close and find home is here.


from The Cottage, The Creek & The Spirit, released December 18, 2015



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Mountain Babies Port Huron, Michigan

"There's something elemental about it all, like the first deep breath after an inclined climb, when the trees come to a clearing and you see a river, pure, untouched, secret almost... There's also something escapist about it; these tunes are elixirs, daydreams, salves and sweet rejuvenation's." - Jeff Milo ... more

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