The year my grandfather passed away I began receiving phone calls from a man who shared his name. He was hoping to reach his friend Esther . That year, when my birthday came around he (David) left me (or should I say Esther) a voicemail . I guess Esther and I were both born on the same day. Isn’t the world strange? It felt like a supernatural gift from grandpa.

the lyrics are Davids words
to: Esther

Vocal scribbles. like finger painting on top of a collage .

as I was singing I was thinking of ballet and birds flying and how fabric dances in the wind

Song about drug induced paranoia during the times of a growing surveillance state : takes place in Ridgewood, Queens.

Coming down from a fever dream of schizoid delusion nestled in the sweet bosom of a brand new city. Stupefied , perplexed , bewildered , safe at last.

The clouds had parted and I could feel sunshine. finally