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Black Sand

by P.S. Lucas

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lyrics

We ran away on Sunday mornings
‘Dared God’s will with our skills in fake holsters
Drawn fast, made up pistols against:
The tyrant of boredom
Lord of the order
King of the borders
That took us by the hand
Away from the black sand
Where we came from

We scorned the fool and all his rules
Preaching the old and baffled tune
Preaching the things we couldn’t know
Haven’t we ran with early glow

We crossed the bay “a marching band”
And pressed our feet down on the sand
We hoped to grow tall as the mounts
That hold the ghosts inside their mouths

The port was reached at tilted sun,
A ferry sailor took my gun
I took his face to bear in grave
When we’re all done shunning the waves

The ferry boats held on the piers
Landing women with salt for tears
With fruit baskets on their heads
And flower mats for their dead

credits

released February 16, 2024
Music & Lyrics by P.S. Lucas
Produced by Mariana Ricardo & P.S. Lucas
Recorded at Bela-Flor Recording Studios and Estúdio Estrela by Eduardo Vinhas (2023)
Mastered by Mário Barreiros

P.S. Lucas - Vocals
Anastáscia Carvalho - Choir
Manuela Oliveira - Choir
Selma Uamusse - Choir
Pedro Branco - Electric Guitar
Augusto Macedo - Organ
João Hasselberg - Electric Bass
João Sousa - Drums

Financial Support by Fundação GDA

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tags

about

P.S. Lucas Lisbon, Portugal

literary drifts, musical stiches and a lot of wandering by Pedro S. Lucas (Medeiros/Lucas, O Experimentar)

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