We round out Fables with a wispy ballad about a troubled guy named Wendell Gee. Haunting is a word overused when applied to ballads, but I'm unable to come up with a better description. The story, the dream in the story, the resignation of whistling into the breeze, the distant harmonies and counter-melodies, the simple banjo arpeggios - each of these contribute to a sadly beautiful tune, effortless in its execution, relentless in its pull.
And thus the southern rail line that is Fables of the Reconstruction pulls away from the station with a long sigh.
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