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Augie March ~ Maroondah Reservoir


To be, A bee, a moth. Four wings spread for the soft last touch Of glory sun, Remembering blood plums and lips and lemons - One hundred different suns In a hundred different heavens. Spied from a rowboat - Stroke, nought is spoken, Before you know it, the spell is broken, You might wonder where you are, Floating on the reservoir. I have counted the notes We landed here not many years ago And it was not a pretty song that we composed: La, la, la, the early bird he knows, You hang from the cherry bough When you're lichen yourself, and leave - The cold cold scent of stone and mulch, The great stone wall to stave the rush, To think that peace might be too much, Waiting for that giant touch... The lake... the fir-fringed lake - Placid and ample, birded, breezed and dappled Through the mountain break, Through the mountain break, A moment take, a moment, a moment... You might wonder where you are, Perched up on the reservoir, Adolf in the white hotel, All this time we've been in hell, You might wonder where you are, Perched above the reservoir, Luis of the lake retire, Before they set the lake on fire Before they set the lake on fire Before they set the lake on fire more free lyrics

To be,
A bee, a moth.
Four wings spread for the soft last touch
Of glory sun,
Remembering blood plums and lips and lemons -
One hundred different suns
In a hundred different heavens.
Spied from a rowboat -
Stroke, nought is spoken,
Before you know it, the spell is broken,
You might wonder where you are,
Floating on the reservoir.
I have counted the notes
We landed here not many years ago
And it was not a pretty song that we composed:

La, la, la, the early bird he knows,
You hang from the cherry bough
When you're lichen yourself, and leave -
The cold cold scent of stone and mulch,
The great stone wall to stave the rush,
To think that peace might be too much,
Waiting for that giant touch...

The lake... the fir-fringed lake -
Placid and ample, birded, breezed and dappled
Through the mountain break,
Through the mountain break,
A moment take, a moment, a moment...

You might wonder where you are,
Perched up on the reservoir,
Adolf in the white hotel,
All this time we've been in hell,
You might wonder where you are,
Perched above the reservoir,
Luis of the lake retire,
Before they set the lake on fire
Before they set the lake on fire
Before they set the lake on fire

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When the lights dim and the first note is played, strangers become synchronized. The tremor when thousands sing together, and the melody that still echoes after the crowd disperses - this is an experience that no screen can convey. We look forward to the return of large-scale concerts to the essence of music, and we also look forward to small livehouses continuing to nourish the most vibrant soil of music.

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