Cold Yoga

by Leaf Peeper

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The second full length record from Portland, ME's Leaf Peeper.

The follow-up to "Hitties Grande."

Marieke Van Der Steenhoven - Theremin on 1
Aleric Nez - Guitar, trombone, saw, vocals on 1; guitar on 11
Dave Noyes - Vocals on 2; trombone, synthesizer, vocals on 3
Emily Dix Thomas - Cello and vocals on 6
Alice Asteroid - Guitar on 9
Burdie Burd - Vocals on 11

Recorded at The Hit Factory and The Om Zone - Portland, ME - between 3/13 and 4/14.

Cover photo by Hannah Bureau / Ethan Parcell at Hewnoaks.

Digital release only.

Free download - donations welcome.


Some say ecstatic relationship

Binds everything in the whole wide world

The beasts of the ground and the birds

Don’t divvy up their days

And my father said something

Well, he said nothing at all

He was pointing at a basketball

Meaning, “Son, let’s play”

So I don’t believe in those golden olden days

Don’t believe in the golden olden ways

If you want it, you can find it right here

To every moralist his ax to grind

And in this I am not without sin

Every time I speak my mind

I have to learn how to shut up again

I go check in with the rowdy boys

We all feel about three feet tall

And the woman in the window watching squirrels

Is one up on us all


Dead leaves in a dirty pissoir

Is something management can’t hide

And a man fast asleep on a living room couch

Is something women can’t abide

Don’t hang your hopes from a haunted tree

Every act is a form of belief

So if I’m a believer, baby

I don’t mind

Just let the river run

At least on Saturday

And if disaster comes

I’m a-gonna go my way

Stop and frisk on the Casco Bay Bridge

No club drugs allowed!

But for $15 you can’t buy yourself a mantra

In an up-and-coming coastal town

Don’t let them tell you what you wanted to be

Where there’s joy, there’s always belief

So if I’m a believer, baby

I don’t mind

Just let the food stamps run

To the 31st day

And if disaster comes

I’m a-gonna go my way


Love, you better slow down

You better stop running around this town

Love, you’ve got to slow down

You can’t just play—you’ve got to get inside the sound

You signed a petition when we were on holiday

To lament the very tenement where the children were at play

Love, you better slow down

Got your head in the clouds—can’t parallel park downtown

Love, you’ve got to slow down

The mansion won’t fall with a hatchet job now

Yes, I know they want men to emulate machines

And yes, I bounced a check for twenty drops of gasoline


Rich people love to talk about community

And when they die they give most generously

They start the wars that send our boys away

Then they build the bombs so they’ll have a productive stay

Where would we be without such beauty, such class?

Rich people built the world and it’s built to last

Child of God

This one’s not a child of God

Rich people love to go on holiday

Where the natives are restless but always kept at bay

They go to meetings and hurry to debrief

Their souls are troubled by the assets they must leave


Baby, turn the lights down low

Civility’s a thing too narrow

Can’t keep up with the pulse of a Ritalin Nation

A data plan to talk about my generation

Here we are tonight:

14 chakras in the moonlight

Baby, put a log on the fire

Turn the lights down low

Love exists outside of France

I’ve heard of ancient forms—let’s give ‘em a chance

Can’t keep up with the kind of men who feel no doubt

They work forty-seven years while the verdict’s still out

I was made precisely in the form of a mystery

I can feel it crawling right through my family tree

And up to me


Mama, some men are so ready to die

Lifting 400 pounds, swearing in the middle of the night

I know I’ve got the bad thing too

Looks like ordinary beerlust when I bring it on home to you

Mama, some men have light in their eyes

Some say they’ve perfected prudence, others hint at animal disguise

Well, I know I’ve got the good thing too

But I’ve never known love to be perfectly simple and true

I was told that trouble never wears a shirt

And it’s true in limited ways

But a poison thought can come to you

Even on some sunny day

Some sunny day when the tide is in

And the moon is high

And the sea is black

And all you’ve theorized

Is washed away

And carried back


Dear Dr. Reich: I dream mostly of waterfalls

My mother knew the back roads to the mall

Joining up with gangs—well, sure it pays

When you’ve only got one acre to learn forest ways

There’s more to time than what they say

The shortest line at the DMV takes three days

They don’t want you to play—no excess levity

“Better make with the paperwork, kid—better make with sobriety”

“Well, no, ma’am”


My feminine archetype looks a lot like you

Playing in the snow on some forsaken afternoon

Sometimes I’m inconsolable and I know the reason why

I was born but she will never die

I won’t come down from the mountain of a sovereign and indomitable will

But, girl, it’s 31 degrees in here—I’m right to feel little bit chilled

I see the tired and the hungry are so often made just to roam

I’ve got six Bud Heavies, so it’s hard not to stay at home

They say that:

Some dreams are better left unspoken

Nickel and dimed, cast out, beaten, broken

I wouldn’t stand against the dreamers myself

Because I never wanted to be anything else


The word is in: the census lied

Depression can’t be killed in a drive-by

Oh, but don’t take it from me

I’ve spoken to the doctor in the armory

You know he’s always seen worse

You’re high or low, fornicate or fight

I wear a helmet after midnight

But then I keep hearing these love songs

Who’s singing these love songs for dirty old me?

I wanna know: where did it go?

The sun only shines on frequent flyers

Oh, but don’t take it from me

Study the playbooks of history

And find a way to kill the king

I’m through with latency, I learned how to fight

My Valium kicks in at midnight

But then I can’t hear all these love songs

What force upholds these love songs for dirty old me?


Armed with terror and a magazine

I awoke one morning with illicit dreams

Pressing my face to the TV screen

Well, I hope—you’ll let me see

Well, I hope—you’ll go skating with me

And I wanted mostly to be touched beneath my skin

So I felt something void just where life begins

Out in the yard with a tennis ball

It was June 15th when I felt it all

First day of summer, first scent of fall

Well, I know—we won’t always be free

Well, I know—television’s bigger than me

And I want mostly just to be of use

To somebody—somebody just like you


Panic comes and panic goes

Will the chancellor keep it shut

When you listen to the radio?

Get ready for crucial times

I fear the advocates of Universal Mind

Want mostly just to get to bed on time

They won’t get behind the mule

So if something’s passing through me tonight

I’ll know you’re home by the kitchen light

You can fry anything you’d like

And we’ll begin again


released November 6, 2014



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Leaf Peeper Portland, Maine

A former member of Sore Eros, Minor Detail, Mind Wheel, and Old Furnace

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