Any Closer to Home is a song of bewilderment, a body searching Earth for the beat beneath the turmoil so it can dance nevertheless. There's a jig for blistered fists, a naked waltz in a laundromat, and a blues lullaby for the end of the world. Migrants sweep the front stoop of Jupiter as mountainsides go up in flames. A donkey bellows, an apple falls, a bruise is swallowed. A long-distance driver pulls off the highway to kneel in a field of fireflies. She wants us to recognize the invitation. She wants us to consider the possibility that for all we know, she or any of us could be kneeling in the stars.
Any Closer to Home is a song of bewilderment, a body searching Earth for the beat beneath the turmoil so it can dance nevertheless. There's a jig for blistered fists, a naked waltz in a laundromat, and a blues lullaby for the end of the world. Migrants sweep the front stoop of Jupiter as mountainsides go up in flames. A donkey bellows, an apple falls, a bruise is swallowed. A long-distance driver pulls off the highway to kneel in a field of fireflies. She wants us to recognize the invitation. She wants us to consider the possibility that for all we know, she or any of us could be kneeling in the stars.
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