Its roots are at my feet, I walk so it won't rest Regurgitate my words, I write so I can feedĪnd Death grows like a tree that's planted in my chest My life is like a wound I scratch so I can bleed Easy to miss while getting caught up in the listening experience, they are an oblique poetry all their own. There's the mystery and beauty of the images.īut even beyond the brilliant fusion of the aforementioned elements are the lyrics themselves. There's that aching voice, described by a prominent critic (I mean, my friend Jonathan) as "wonderfully androgynous - kind of like a punk Billie Holiday." There's the mashup of musical styles, so perfectly wedded to the voice. There is a reason this music video's got over eight million views on the youtubes:Īctually, there are a lot of reasons. It's in my head now, and that's a good thing. This is because it's part of the soundtrack for the yoga practice that this selfsame wife has been putting together for her yoga instructor training program ― a practice I have been guinea-pigging every day for the past week. When I first met my wife (who has a degree in Jewish studies and spent two summers in Israel and is also amazingly creative) she introduced me to this song by Asaf Avidan.Īt the time I didn't pay it enough attention, but lately it's been stuck on loop inside my brain.
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