If you enjoy this video, please "Like" it, leave a comment, share the link, spread the word. Thanks!
www.aaronenglis...
Aaron English: vocals, Mark Fauver: flute, Patrick Strole: guitar, Matthew Burgess: percussion, Miguel Mateus: bass, Derek Munson: drums.
Recorded at Two Sticks Audio, Seattle WA, by Don Gunn, with assistance from Jackson Long. Mixed by Don Gunn. Mastered by John McCaig at Panic Studios.
Video by Patrick Strole. Thanks to all those who shot raw footage in the studio: Jeff Leisawitz, Crystal Munson, Don Gunn, Joanne Olsen, Derek Munson.
Norwegian Wood written by Lennon/McCartney, published by Northern Songs. Kashmir written by Page/Plant/Bonham, published by Superhype/WEA.
Norwegian Wood:
I once had a girl,
Or should I say she once had me.
She showed me her room,
Isn't it good? Norwegian wood.
She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.
I sat on a rug
Biding my time, drinking her wine.
We talked until two,
And then she said 'It's time for bed'.
She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh,
I told her I didn't, and crawled off to sleep in the bath.
And when I awoke
I was alone, this bird has flown
So I lit a fire,
Isn't it good? Norwegian wood.
Kashmir:
Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream
I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been
To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen
They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed
Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear
But not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear
Oh, oh.
All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground
And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land
Trying to find, trying to find where I've been.
Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream
Heed the path that led me to that place, yellow desert stream
My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again
Sure as the dust that floats high in June, when movin' through Kashmir.
Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years
With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear