Terrance Zdunich & Saar Hendelman - June lyrics

Sixth of June, 1816 I must confess that I have not written often of late. And when I do, it is a clemency I give myself For the inkwell continues to freeze. This has surely been as cold a weather as any man has known. The calendar is false. I say, is this not summer? The east hills that overlook my property, They have all been k**ed by frost. The less fit plants and vegetation Beg for mercy where there is none. I have none. I want none. Worse still, an almost perpetual rain Confines me principally to pace the house, Where I have taken to wearing socks and coats And gloves too big for my fingers. A steady fire has been required at all hours, Though the ice in the wood has made it difficult to chop And heavy to carry, troublesome to drag. Copious showers have been attended With lightening and thunder And the road has been barren of souls for weeks, Save for a post delivery last Tuesday. Is this what we fought for? I would have welcomed the company, Of course, but it was a parcel for Silas. The rider asked to come inside, To be spared from the crippling frost, (Go 'way, go 'way from my window) But I set him off. This matter was settled when that damned treaty was signed. (Go 'way, go 'way from my door) I don't understand why I'm being punished. (One year, three months, eighteen days.) I hope the animals take him. (No, God don't live here no more.) Eleventh of June, 1816 There has never been so poor a harvest As this season, as now. New England has become a festering graveyard. It was better when the king ruled us. Not this uneven wind. Beans are froze. Cucumbers, roots, they are froze. The well is froze. The body is froze. Outside, less determined, disgraceful men And wives and daughters stampede Like slow, dying bulls, mewling, heading West. Aren't we so full of Christian grace? A persistent fog has reddened and dimmed the daylight. It is as if the sun itself has become pocked And blackened with sores. I am so very tired. General Jacobs came to the house again. (Go 'way, go 'way from my window.) Third time in a day. (Go 'way, go 'way from my door.) I don't understand his ignorance. I should lie in bed and ignore the knocking. (One year, three months, twenty-four days.) I should make him hope. That will suit him. Hope is for the weak. (No, God don't live here no more.) Thirteenth of June, 1816 As I write this, I am convinced that the sun has taken ill to defy me. More convinced than I've ever been of anything. Nature is rot. Or are my superior wits deceived By a fiction gnawing in my belly? Father would say so. Now, I have taken to eating loathsome foods: Boiled gra** and udders, if I can find them. Men came from town yesterday. (Go 'way, go 'way from my window.) "Where is your brother? Where is your brother, Silas?" (Go 'way, go 'way from my door.) I gave them nothing. We stood on the porch for an hour's time, A senseless eternity. (One year, three months, twenty-six days.) Across the field, a sickly creature limped about. I so wished to reach for my rifle. (No, God don't live here no more.) Make quick work and eat again. Eighteenth of June, 1816 Today, Reverend Brown came. I wished to k** him to establish peace. His blood would be my own treaty. A dead bird was frozen in his hand. I bet it was God's judgment. I, too, have a rifle. No, Reverend, I will not beg, nor be humbled Before a God who will make of me an American, (Go 'way, go way from my window.) Yet hate me so freely for it. (Go 'way, go 'way from my door.) Is he not a Father who does not love his kin? Don't we all have our pacts to make? (One year, three months, thirty-one days.) Soak them in blood and honor them. I will not be punished by men. (No, God don't live here no more.) Twentieth of June, 1816 So, I fear, this is summer, Lands are all but abandoned Gone like the red sticks. Save for me. What beautiful promise this is, Silas. Silas. Silas. Silas. I will not be punished, Silas. Father, you want your son? Take my hands then. For I will not wash his blood from them. This land is mine. Should have always been. And if summer survives, And I can find a measure of warmth, I will not bury his body, not my brother. I will let the animals gnaw on his bones. And I will send him to Hell in your Heaven, father. May you both be blessed in blood. You want punishment? You've found it. I wish you d**h. Your only daughter