The 'Shelter' Demos

by Dane Letourneau

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Photos taken in Maya Center Village, Belize, Central America.

These tunes are for late summer in the dead of winter, dreams in darkness.


released September 24, 2011

All photography, songwriting, recording, performing, mixing, production is copyright 2011 Dane Letourneau.



all rights reserved


Dane Letourneau Nanaimo, British Columbia

Dane is a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter and producer from Van Isle, Canada. He loves Radiohead, Sufjan Stevens, Frank Ocean, and old Joni Mitchell. His songwriting is both beguiling and familiar, drawing on a multitude of influences while keeping melody front and center. ... more

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Track Name: Running out of Room
I’ve been running out of room
to get things ready
to grow

And fight this time
And make for the water

And don’t you think its high time we got bitter
And abusive for the winter
In a way we’ve never known?

And don’t you think agreements to abate or
lessen our degree of vicious temper
could just spoil the fun?
Track Name: Rafter of Luck
Now you’ve found the rafter of luck
Swung from its roughened surface
Collapsed on the floor beside us
Now where do you go from here?

Never would you think to put this off,
but Eden’s in the mind,
and in our loft, we would
Reminisce of years
that formed our true loves,
forgetting of the need to carry on

The stickiness of lust
destroyed our strong flight
Crash landing in a field
in dead of night,
wayward spirits of the loft
enjoying slow, slow time

What you’ve managed to stand up for
Be it truth in splendid candor
Be it all your small successors
Be it dizzy driving home

Your reflection stands in static
Your reaction’s automatic
You’ve managed to abuse this
The rafter that brought you here

Rafter of luck, of sought of dreams
Keeping the captives in-between
The view from this bridge
must brightly gleam
For those unknowing eyes
Track Name: The Observer
If you made sense, once upon a time
I would soon forget and furthermore deny you were sane,
Although you were sweet

And if you called me out
for never coming home
In the dead of night,
I’d never let you know
where I’d been,
I’d just warm the bed again

I beat you to a numbing out
Of fingertips that used to run
Along your spine and level out
We used to have our fun

And I’ve enjoyed apologies
At least in their futility
To choruses of grinding teeth
I’ll gladly set my song

If you looked upon my tattered,
ugly thoughts
One would soon observe my efforts long were lost
To entice you again,
to take you to that loft