The man who raised me used his hands. He was a builder and a castle for me he did build. A monument of love to me, built with stone and chisel, while I grew up like a thistle.
CHORUS
Thorns grown by streetlight blooming at night. Cut down to size by men I recognize by the look in their eyes.
The woman who raised me used her hands. Her husband’s handmaid, she taught me how to hold my tongue, while parts of me were chipped away, ’til I bore resemblance little former semblance.
CHORUS
This pool of light I'm drowning in choked with lifeguards’ warnings.
While men in lifeboats circle me offering assistance, needy and insistent.
CHORUS
This is a gross exaggeration adopted child's drug-addled imagination.
We've come to treat her as our own and we've come to take her home, her loving home, she's coming home.
Raise the drawbridge, fill the moat. Pulled in from the streetlights, tucked in bed with sheets pulled tight. Abated here within the fold, familiar secrets clutter up this empty home.
Thorns lit by streetlight grown here by night light.
Skin is razed, hands raised, light this stone house ablaze.
The man who raised me used his hands.
Delicate and personal folk-pop from Castle Theater: honest observations and reflections presented as thoughtful, well-written miniatures. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 4, 2022
This debut self-titled EP from Mississippian Kate Teague is filled with poignant retro-sounding indie and folk tracks. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 6, 2019
Burbling beneath the hazy beauty of the debut solo record from Lush co-founder Emma Anderson is razor-sharp wit and a heart full of rage. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 5, 2023
On this harmonically rich LP, the Scottish singer-songwriter contrasts gorgeous soprano harmonies with strident folk-rock instrumentation. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 26, 2023