I awaken from dreaming original

A slow, intimate folk song unfolds in a minor key, carried by delicate fingerpicking on acoustic guitar and gentle, minimal piano lines, The overall dynamic remains subdued, paired with faint ambient rain or quiet room sounds to evoke a dawn stillness, The arrangement is sparse, with no swelling chorus or dramatic shifts—just soft, confessional melodies floating in a hushed, rain-laced space

I awaken from dreaming
of your lips warm on mine
only to find the heat is off
in this tomb-like house

[VERSE 2 – reflective, same melody]
Easter weekend
Good Friday hatches
half-formed thoughts of eggs
coloured bright or not
ripe with possibility
still warm from the pot

[VERSE 3 – quiet, observational]
I’d have to move
from this bed where
I’m cocooned in linen
ignoring the pushy cats
scratching my bedroom door
demanding I arise

[REFRAIN – rhythmic, mantra‑like, very soft]
pitter patter
April rain on roof
pitter patter
cat paws in pursuit
pitter patter
prayer in my head

[VERSE 4 – darker, restrained intensity]
bitter herbs for seder
fresh plucked and dipped
unleavened bread broken
blessed and consumed
this is my body
this is my blood
this is my betrayal

[VERSE 5 – weary irony, pull back musically]
I never asked for this
and yet here it is bestowed 
as everything and nothing 
alpha to omega recycled 
wrapped in brown paper 
with a tattered Christmas bow

[REFRAIN – return, slightly fuller but still contained]
pit-a-patter
rain keeps falling 
pit-a-patter
felines still calling 
pit-a-patter
I’m still stalling

[VERSE 6 – vivid memory, grounded, unromantic]
mother used to make fish
every goddamn Friday
filling my sine-us-is
with the scent of death
and Catholicism for supper

[VERSE 7 – parallel structure, same melody]
father would close shave
every blessed Saturday
filling the whole house
with the reek of Aqua Velva
in ritual ablution for Sunday

[VERSE 8 – emotional turn, hold space after]
I never could decide which
aroma I detested more
and now how very much
I miss them both

[BRIDGE – time motif, minimal backing]
pitter-patter 
pit-a-patting
tick-tock 
time moves on 
leaving us alone 
hoping to atone 
for what we did 
and what we couldn’t

[OUTRO – very quiet, hymn‑adjacent cadence, fade]
pater noster pattering my chest 
time at last for me to confess 
I think today it may be best 
if I slip deeply back to my rest.

(pitter-patter)
(pit-a-patter)
(pitter-patter)
(pit-a-patter)
(doesn’t matter)
(bitter-batter)
(pit-a-patter)

2064/7500

I awaken from dreaming of your lips warm on mine only to find the heat is off in this tomb-like house [VERSE 2 – reflective, same melody] Easter weekend Good Friday hatches half-formed thoughts of eggs coloured bright or not ripe with possibility still warm from the pot [VERSE 3 – quiet, observational] I’d have to move from this bed where I’m cocooned in linen ignoring the pushy cats scratching my bedroom door demanding I arise [REFRAIN – rhythmic, mantra‑like, very soft] pitter patter April rain on roof pitter patter cat paws in pursuit pitter patter prayer in my head [VERSE 4 – darker, restrained intensity] bitter herbs for seder fresh plucked and dipped unleavened bread broken blessed and consumed this is my body this is my blood this is my betrayal [VERSE 5 – weary irony, pull back musically] I never asked for this and yet here it is bestowed as everything and nothing alpha to omega recycled wrapped in brown paper with a tattered Christmas bow [REFRAIN – return, slightly fuller but still contained] pit-a-patter rain keeps falling pit-a-patter felines still calling pit-a-patter I’m still stalling [VERSE 6 – vivid memory, grounded, unromantic] mother used to make fish every goddamn Friday filling my sine-us-is with the scent of death and Catholicism for supper [VERSE 7 – parallel structure, same melody] father would close shave every blessed Saturday filling the whole house with the reek of Aqua Velva in ritual ablution for Sunday [VERSE 8 – emotional turn, hold space after] I never could decide which aroma I detested more and now how very much I miss them both [BRIDGE – time motif, minimal backing] pitter-patter pit-a-patting tick-tock time moves on leaving us alone hoping to atone for what we did and what we couldn’t [OUTRO – very quiet, hymn‑adjacent cadence, fade] pater noster pattering my chest time at last for me to confess I think today it may be best if I slip deeply back to my rest. (pitter-patter) (pit-a-patter) (pitter-patter) (pit-a-patter) (doesn’t matter) (bitter-batter) (pit-a-patter)

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