The Rolling, Driftless North

by Vansire

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Dream pop project of Josh Augustin and Sam Winemiller from Rochester, Minnesota

'Eleven Weeks' music video


released March 13, 2017


all rights reserved



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Track Name: Eleven Weeks
Since we last spoke
The past eleven weeks
The stacks of paper left me feeling
Like sentience is not quite what it seems

When we last wrote
It was the sun and me
With cliffs as high
And fears as deep with my
Magnum opus, my starry-eyed recitative

The color on these trees
It's like something from a movie
Last night I smiled
While laughing at a moonbeam
We're all moving

I felt awoke
Our summer music spree
My reflections on being cut free
It's turning out to be the strength I need

I hope you know
That there's still joy for me
In fleeting moments I take relief
In my suspicion that these past months
Were a dream

You should see these trees
It's like something from a movie
And when she smiles
The earth's no longer moving
The thought's soothing
Track Name: Pale Blue
Although we're windswept
We're buffered by the trees
The past couple of weeks were riddled with unease

It'd take several hours to drive
Picture living different lives
And I'd rather stay inside

When I watch the world pass by on someone else's time

Is that the sun I'm staring at
Is that my visage staring back
The turnpike's jammed no turning back
And we spin around the cul de sac

Is that the sun I'm staring at
Is that my visage staring back
And we spin around the cul de sac
Track Name: Driftless
There is a street lamp
Twenty feet outside
From where I sit in bed
Waiting out the night

Left your keys on the table
It's clear we've no need to drive
It's you and I floating through space
Fates intertwined

And as the snow fell
While the cars passed by
The window was obscured
Frost blocked the light

I've not changed I've merely stayed the same
I've been dreaming so it seems less strange

I'm unsure if I will ever be
Sure of who I am before I leave
Maybe check back in awhile with me
I'm just trying to feel ok
Track Name: Four Portraits
There's Arnold
With his back to me
Wandering down through an ill-lit street
I'm curious
And would like to entreat
Is it inspiration or self-defeat

And from the corner his figure fades
And should I follow or retrograde

There's Anton
With a furrowed brow
A crooked finger and non-plussed scowl
There's symmetry
He will soon endow
Crafting tone rows with his head faced down

If I seek pleasure in melody
Have I betrayed best tendencies

Oh Alban
We part our hair the same
Posing next to a drawer and frame
At 23 and two years of age
Your work is tasteful your life's urbane

As for the despot's who bring you down
A century later they're still around

And so I sit by the window sill
Feeling sad, the questions linger still
I'm trying to decide if it's fake or real

I'm all alone
In a noisy throng
Nameless and ageless, all strung along
Nobody else can name this song
Mispronunciations and words spelled wrong

At times like these I think I'm on my own
A new self-portrait of my own

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