Stop the Clocks (Words by W. H. Auden)

from by Lara Kroeker

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lyrics

Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

credits

from DEMO, released August 9, 2013

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about

Lara Kroeker Vancouver, British Columbia

Lara builds song structures and sounds by looping phrases using her voice, violin and looping station (Boss RC300).

Lara has played with indie groups for a long, long time (Attics and Cellars, Sparrow, The Beauticians, The Insomniacs, The Mudlarks), and played backup for k-os on the George Stroumboulopoulos show.

Lara studied Roma music and incorporates these different styles into her music.
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