Tempo: 65 BPM (dreamy, languid) Key: E major with occasional modal shifts Vocal treatment: Heavy reverb, subtle pitch shifting, doubled an octave higher Guitar tones: Jazzmaster through analog delay and reverb, palm-muted passages Drums: Vintage drum machine (CR-78 style) heavily compressed and filtered Atmosphere: Pool party at golden hour, liminal suburban spaces, memory as place She stretches her wings in the rising glow, But finds there is nowhere for her to go. She sits on the wall as the daylight goes by, Still watching the crawl of the slow, slow sky. She makes her tea in the morning light, And smiles at the birds as they sing in flight. She rests her paws on the warming stone, And feels how the world can be kindly, her own. Ordinary day, for the wall and for the sky, Ordinary day, as the travellers walk by. Ordinary day, as she hums while hours pass, Ordinary day, like the first and like the last. She waters the plants that grow in the cracks, She counts all the clouds as they drift in stacks. A traveller comes but they will not stay, She shrugs her shoulders and looks away. She ain’t the guard, she’s the line itself, The edge of the world as it draws its self. Where cracks let the weed find a way to be seen, It carries both ruin and carries the green. Not here, not there, but a breath in the air, A seam in the space, though there’s nothing there. The weight of the shift in the way things are seen, The shape of the beast at the break in between. Ordinary day, with the fog around her knees, Ordinary day, with the sound of rustling trees. Ordinary day, with the doorway in her sight, Ordinary day, as the day becomes the night. The tea grows cold as the daylight fails, She tucks her paws and she curls her tail. The evening hums with a gentle sound, She waits once more as the world goes round. Ordinary day, for the keeper of the gate, Ordinary day, and the questions have to wait. Ordinary day, with a patience she has shown, Ordinary day, with forever as her own.
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