Footprints

by Organic Flow

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credits

released 14 April 2012

Recorded: January 2011-October 2011


All Songs written by Michael Cantafio, Zane Ranney and David Gilman. "A Dot on the Horizon" written by Nick Mangialardi. Poetry by Liam Bird.

Audio Engineering by: James Krivchenia
Recording by: Sam Bicak and Corey Peoples
Cover art by: Anjalee Verma

All songs performed by Zane Ranney, Liam Bird, Mike Cantafio and David Gilman.

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about

Organic Flow Chicago, Illinois

Known for their innovative style, Organic Flow create cultural dialogue through their music. They are known in the Chicagoland area for their process of respectfully combining elements of jazz and hip hop music. The band is a quartet composed of Zane Ranney (drums), Michael Cantafio (guitar), Liam Bird (vocals) and Dave Gilman (bass), but also calls on many feature members and guest artists. ... more

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Track Name: New Landscaped People?
Perhaps new found life is post-perpetual bloom
or within and the factory strikes noon--

Within the flower
pattern of its growth and decline
become more apparent--

and as it turns out
flower couldn't share its inside
but could only be viewed
from the outside--

From its pattern folds
that extended during the day
and closed at night like--

The gates of a castle
that close on all sides
abiding by an internal
rhythm--

Much like your internal
clock that recreates itself
based on your lifestyle--

How do we find new landscaped people?
Blinding them with immortality.

Here now fixated
on some part of life
often cast in the alleyway
of our hearts and those
on patrol are ticketing
but how do we get
to our garages?

Or suspicious activity--
dilapidated school house
top of the building

detached this morning--


No
umbrella, hat or roof
and outside it's pouring
this morning--

Water trickles down the chalkboard
and off the students desk
taking all
this morning--

Teachers wash away
like the words on the wall
this morning--

On the train rattling by
rooftops. The inauthentic
wrote their names on
rooftops
this morning--

others on their
rooftops--

first floor is flooded
house decaying
at it's roots.

How do we find new landscaped people?
Blinding them with immortality.

So we commute
stationary as the light
moves in lines--

and the paths
not traveled
are infinite--

so, projecting into
possibilities could--

drive one made.

Cause in effect.

Cause is in effect.
Track Name: Over the Mountain (Napoleon Complex
Pressing fingertips
against her soul mirrored--
the underbelly of the lake
fed her diffusing image.

The bridger and the bridge
umbilicaled and imprinted:

"And I've looked over the
mountain," she said.

When United States
of Herd-Head
lipped your neck
a delicate secret:

bones of flowered poems
where sun falls out.

How to hold your hand
in the Western night?

Dreams of billowing
"do tears sit in lakes--
patiently?"

Enter dreams to meet you--
one door where you need
breath--

I dive to you
to save an idea
like a child
in a coloring book.

All the painter can do
is reframe the painting that
she is

like a sunflower perpetually
reframing itself in the
sunlight;

sunflower always reframing
the dots in the coloring book--

which the page has always
shown and it cannot
see.

Enter the rambunctious city
rising orderlessly:

the hoards blooming from openings
like wounds.

The shattered light of the clock
artificing every block:

beneath the madness
pollution rising between
the light intervals--

perpetual motion
lack order and beauty
and the car pulls up
the the only building--

not scraping the sky:

reconfiguring itself
page by page.

Change is furniture
reassembled and new
faces at the forefront--

architect behind it
wants one more lump--

two architects behind
her stilted:

new shades of hope
evolve within

and though she's still
a wilted sunflower--

dieing as part of the circle
unseen between the acts--

as the curtain close
hands from laps:
audience claps.

All the painter can do
is reframe the painting that
she is

like a sunflower perpetually
reframing itself in the
sunlight;

sunflower always reframing
the dots in the coloring book--

which the page has always
shown and it cannot
see.
Track Name: Angel Headed Hipsters (Own Ghost)
Being prisoner--
own ghost.

"Angel headed hipsters"
downtown Chicago.
Knee-up, arm-switched
on blueline--

radiant cool eyes
ostensibly deep
and knowing
but always
with the agenda
of their fathers--

and underpinnings
of an oedipus complex:

skulls inner scenary
semantic-less.

"Angel headed hipsters"
isolated by choice.

Being Prisoner--
own ghost.

"Angel headed hipsters"
isolated by choice.

The machinery of night--
colored people

drove them to the back
of their mental terrain--

and out the white
picket fence from
the front porch--

of our sanity:

these lips
something you can
catch; nature or
nuture America's
tightrope--

strung within my heart
playing a ballad
pulled grotesquely--

as the man rocking
in a white gymnasium:
reaching in his pocket
for a gasper long gone.

On the Eisenhower
walking along the side--

down my head
and bent to it again.

Tip-toeing
along the line
carrying my sign
that says:

"I'm not
homeless
you are. "

Wealth can't
buy you out
of your mind--

or terminate
xenophobic creatures
in your terrain:

"I'm not
homeless
you are."

When your last piece of
mental furniture goes--

in whose arms will you
through yourself
America?

Being prisoner--
own ghost.
Track Name: Hooves on the Enflamed Books
His spear has a scale
attached at the bottom--

shield is a white bird
with opened wing--

Black horses
carrying the chariot
put hooves on the
enflamed books--

dead hands
reach up
under the wheels
turning--

round and round
the ground is red.