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We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Beyond Ourselves

by Te Kooti Brotherhood

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1.
Lights 02:37
The sun sets over the Waitaks A deep orange paints the sky The sun fades; the night comes The lights around me reflect houses, reflecting people, Reflecting lives quietly moving Behind doors of which I’ll never know The ever-changing sense of ebb and flow From joy to pain; rage to praise; grace to blame We all move in ebbs and flows These hills look down on us, a quiet mist Reminding of a time when these lights didn’t exist What stood before them; a land of peace Before these lights revealed our brokenness Before these lights revealed our transience These clouds always bring rain I hope one day they’ll wash these streets to look brand new And give this land the peace it once held to Cos’ I don’t wanna keep bleeding our frustrations But this sunset still sets how it always did Framing us within the constant and the good Our reflection of goodness and beauty is not our own For this mirror was never a mirror but a window
2.
This colonial mindset is feeding my warped perception of seeing everything as either threat or potential possession there is no neutrality here Let me hear love's language in the midst of this let me not twist this hearing away; otherwise everything will sound with only the petty, shrill clamour of my own cravings and fears My worth is tied to this How is my name spoken? How is my name heard? Let me hear love's language In the midst of this; in the midst of this It's time I move beyond myself and I believe there is a dying and rising that speaks to this If I give up my rights and step into a new paradigm that reorients conformity
3.
A young man declares, “I love you” Yet in his heart he whispers, “What is love?” Love has become such an empty word What does it mean? What does it mean? He opens to a picture of a woman Someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s mother And he whispers in his heart, “I lust you” I don’t know you yet I choose to covet you And deep in his being... he knows That when he objects her... he shows A true state of the depth of our distortion And something within him screams “Make me fearless, make me fearless, make me fearless It is this fear that chokes real relationship Make me fearless, make me fearless It is my fear that is choking my love”
4.
There is no love in this so-called freedom Where commitment has become a thing of the past and all that matters is if you're having fun 'Cos as quick as those feelings can walk through that door they turn around and leave you hungry for more the next fling, the next high, the next girl to tell you you're the right guy Boredom pervades our fickle living where we seek newness as if the old held no meaning Freedom has become the loosing of all restraints with the disclaimer that my actions affect no one. Yet this freedom has unleashed a monster that inflicts the wounds of a thousand self-gratified encounters Love is a commitment to something greater than myself Love is a commitment to something greater than myself and this something releases me to inhabit hope Love is a commitment to someone other than myself and this other releases me to receive love… to receive love… to move past just a nameless face to someone, who in all their deepest insecurities…, is known
5.
Whanau 02:42
There's no more you against me Can't you see; can't you see We're all whanau There's no more slave or free Can't you see; can't you see We're all whanau So don't discriminate and don't segregate And don't forget to listen So don't dehumanize and don't objectify And don't forget to listen For when we listen then we hear And when we hear we no longer just see a face; we see a story We see a picture of ourselves Presented in a different context but with the same blood So don't discriminate and don't segregate And don't forget to listen So don't dehumanize and don't objectify And don't forget to listen We are one...Whanau We are one...Whanau We are one...Whanau We are one...Whanau He iwi tahi tatou (we are one people) So don't discriminate and don't segregate And don't forget to listen So don't dehumanize and don't objectify And don't forget to listen
6.
Girls and boys grow up to be ladies and gentlemen Grow up to be respectable citizens Grow up to be scared in their skins We dressed up in our parents’ clothes. We soaked up every word they told us Someday we’d have the nice picket fence with a clothes line to keep things clean and neat Girls and boys play cowboys and Indians Play goodies and baddies Where the goodies always win in the minds of our children Just a game, or so we’re taught… or so we’re taught… or so we’re taught… We dressed up in our parents’ clothes. We soaked up every word they told us “You’re not an Indian, after all – you’re the good one.” Oh social conformity how did you ever take such a rooted hold on me These stories and dreams so firmly grafted into our history And I’m so gentle, and I’m so nice and good that I’d never truly know what I stood for Now that my house and dreams align with the outlines of these city streets Am I the repetition or the revolution to your power plays? Am I the repetition or the revolution to your hear says? Do I swim nice and neatly in the black and white or in the messy grey? Where the waves blur me yet wash me of my sanitation
7.
I walked around with an insatiable ego Wanting to prove my strength through a tough drop D Like I’m some true version of manliness With a stoic exterior above the rest What a lie, what a misguided let down That I could find some meaning in taking control My autonomy is idolatry With the assumption that the answer is inside of me From cool calm collected to on the edge rejected This is a downward thrust to a place with rags in my hand offering nothing but a chance to ease the burdens of a busy world distracted in itself I am a vulnerable man with a heart in his hand I am a powerless man with a will for inclusion I am an accepted man with nothing to prove I am a weak man learning what it means to serve This is a downward thrust to a place with rags in my hand offering nothing but a chance to ease the burdens of a busy world distracted in itself
8.
We’re all on par with each other In this place we’ve taken down the ladder All that’s left is just a floor For you and I to respect our differences Diving kids, face plant in the pit Thirty people all clamber for the mic Crafted words through depth of thought that hope to breed a depth of heart This was never about idolization as hearts connect to more than just a melody as lives reflect something more than just a tragedy This will always leave more than just a memory
9.
Twenty-nine die at Pike River Mine While over three-fifty are somehow denied A time to be mourned on our six O-clock news Their deaths are forgotten amidst our need for Western precedence Nearly three thousand died in those towers whilst malaria kills more in twenty-four hours Yet these kids - five and younger - are granted no voice And we sit back and take this as norm Where is their good Samaritan? Where is our good Samaritan? The media still reveals a western supremacy reflecting a racism toward the majority We've become immune to the state of their reality And our eyes are turned away We see the aids epidemic, mass poverty, war and we trivialize, disassociate and ignore Have we accepted a hopeless fatalism or are we just too consumed to notice ...too preoccupied with the daily routines of life Does our skin colour and cultural difference blind us from the fact that we are one... Whanau (whanau) We share the same blood, we share the same blood. Where is their good Samaritan? Where is our good Samaritan? "Until lions have their own historians Tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunter"
10.
I walked the beach my body cold from the wind The horizon line leads my eye to the point at which The world takes a turn to another thousand faces, stories, places Moving and changing as I contemplate What do I mean when I say, “this is it?” And could it be something more than I could fit In my head for all I know I’m just a boy Clinging to whats held accustomed and all that goes Along with my approximations from words that try to bridge how my mind perceives things When I feel like everything around me is somehow Nothing more than a reflection of my thoughts What do I mean when I say, “this is it?” And could it be something more than I could fit In my head for all I know I’m just a boy Clinging to whats held accustomed and all that goes …and all that goes If my words are approximations relative to something then could all of this and how I perceive it be an approximation to something more
11.
Home 02:43
I can’t cry; these tears won’t come So I scream and hope to become a person held close by arms that don’t wander clinging me to home Yet this home seems halfway built; like a halfway house for the halfway hounds It is my frightful blessing; my beautiful chore This is our land, this is our story We are the trophy kids, groping for truth, groping for a place to call home for a story that makes sense of our place in this world This is my home; my frightful blessing; my beautiful chore We live in a halfway house; halfway built The ever-changing sense of ebb and flow We are the tired ones with longing souls for a restful home and we all sing… With the west glow setting softly; with the west glow setting softly We are the ugly ones with worn out tongues that led the sums and we all sing… With the west glow setting softly; with the west glow setting softly We are the damaged ones with taut lips that learnt recoiling love and we all sing… With the west glow setting softly; with the west glow setting softly We are the profaned ones at war with ourselves, in disconnect and we all sing… With the west glow setting softly; with the west glow setting softly

credits

released August 30, 2012

Recorded by Mike Smith
Mixed and Mastered by Pete Wood
Music and Lyrics by Christian Parker and Te Kooti Brotherhood
Photography by Melody Cooper and Nick Jamieson
Design by Nick Jamieson

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Te Kooti Brotherhood Auckland, New Zealand

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