Stripped of grandeur, OSKA’s April, May, July arrives understated, its a poignant lullaby tenderly ushering you into a world where fragility reigns supreme.
Yet, beneath the delicate melodies coursing through this poetic reverie lies a searing rumination on life’s impermanence, encapsulating a stark truth often overshadowed by music’s deceptive eternities.
Her emotive vocals haunt with ethereal grace, each breath a wisp of memory escaping into the ether.
Lyrics bleed with unvarnished vulnerability, confessional vignettes woven into the fading tapestry of remembrance.
OSKA achingly documents the all-too-human struggles of severing ties, wrestling with lingering attachment, and seeking meaning amid the dissolution of profound bonds.
April, May, July is nuanced in its deceptive simplicity, concealing profound meditations on the human condition and our perpetual struggle to outgrow its constraints.
OSKA embraces the sting of severance with haunting transparency.
“As long as I can remember, I have struggled with ending any kind of relationship. I had to learn that, sometimes, the only way to regain trust and love is to let go of one another.”
Her musings move past personal, each verse a gentle exhalation into the collective unconscious.
We are summoned not as passive listeners but as accomplices in an exquisitely melancholic rite of passage.
Yet for all its wistful shores, April, May, July anchors itself in startling self-awareness.
“This isn’t heaven, you’re not a saint / I’m just trying to grow out of this place,” she avows, shedding pretence with admirable integrity.
In this deftly crafted vignette, OSKA doesn’t seek transcendence but understanding—an imperfect acceptance of life’s ceaseless flux.
As the final refrain whispers into silence, one can’t help but feel transformed.
If not emboldened by a newfound appreciation for the fragile rhythms underscoring our ephemeral existence, April, May, July is a chronicle of the human spirit’s endless journey—at times mercilessly lucid, at others comfortingly cosmic.
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OSKA April, May, July Lyrics
And there’s this other guy
Not like in I loved him
More like me oh my
Should I speak or should I die?
Not to go out on a limb
I’m coming up with my own saying
That friends should never owe each other anything
Why does it feel like I owe everything to him?
April May July
Oh this summer passed me by
Wonder where he’s been
And I hope to catch him when
I’m good to sing
Where we end
We begin
Then there’s you who kept me safe
While I kept you a secret
For all the wrong reasons
I know I’ve lied
Just forget me like a song
Miss me like a stop sign
Don’t want you to play along
But you say that it’s fine
We both know that it’s time
April May July
Hoped that death would pass us by
Wonder where you‘ve been
Now December’s here again
I hear you sing
Where we end
We begin
This isn’t heaven, you’re not a saint
I’m just trying to grow out of this place
This isn’t heaven, you’re not a saint
I’m just trying to grow out of this place
April May July
Oh this summer passed me by
Wonder where you’ve been
Now December’s here again
Me and all my friends
Good for nothing
A bunch of has-beens
Are we just the songs we sing?
Or is the silence in between
Where we begin?
