1. |
Anchors Away
03:35
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Turning down the demons is
our first stop in making sense
of all this dirt.
Last weekend by the lake you tried
to give your away clothes, your wires.
You said, "It's all dirt.
"It's only a matter of time
before they take all this junk,
all this waste to the street in black plastic bags.
"Please take these things away from me
while I have breath and my heart beats
and i can see them off.
The air was thick
the colors were bright
in 1950 I made her my bride
They all showed up to see us off.
"I shaved my face, put on a tie,
stuck out my thumb,
and talked my way across the country
just to spend some time getting warm under your light.
Anchors away.
"Silver dollars marked the day
The foundation was laid,
but now there's handprints and concrete holes
in the home that you've grown.
"Your leather suitcase full of holes,
fill it up with these old stones.
I've never met a stranger
but my mind's inclined to roam.
I'm sorry if my eyes go dim
while we peel pages and talk current events,
but I'm so tied up trying to follow her home."
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2. |
Meet People Make Things
03:07
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I'm acting like I'm writing because output seems so sweet. It reads like therapy. But I'm choosing my words wisely and folding them at the corners. It reads like mercy. You are so passionate and dirty. We are uncomfortable and messy, but nothing of depth or of beauty is ever easy.
I'm counting every beat of every word of every measure it's embarrassing. I'm acting like I'm laughing because I'm trying to be present. It reads like fiction. You are so focused. You are so measured. Do you ever feel lonely? Or maybe not lonely, but if you don't peel back the layers (because I don't peel back the layers), does it displace you?
As we're walking through the city our heels hit the concrete and echo off of buildings. It sounds like drifting. We trip on words, we're so unsure, we're a house of cards that's shaking. It reads like poetry.
We're all so specific.
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3. |
The Fall
03:30
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The leaves have fallen,
I'm still awake.
Wondering where you are tonight.
Autumn and auburn,
Slivers of grey,
Passively losing the fight.
Winter should swallow
My endless pride.
But I'm too big for that now.
I'd say I'm sorry
If I knew what for
You wouldn't care anyhow
This season has no time for crying.
Winter's just coming too fast.
You could've taken the fall,
It took you instead
I'll never forgive you for that.
Marbled memory
Two sacred dates
Wondering where you are tonight.
Cobblestone walkway
Leads me to you
Something just doesn't feel right.
This season has no time for crying.
Winter's just coming too fast.
You could've taken the fall,
It took you instead
I'll never forgive you for that.
I miss you.
I do.
You took my spring and my summer
And left me with fall.
I'll never forgive you for that.
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4. |
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Don't worry now, I'm not gonna leap
but I'm too tired to move so I'll stay here with you.
Piled up on the floor while we're stacking up dreams
like old burnt out matchbooks from the cities we've seen.
We say cheers to the present
while we empty out the glass,
talk about where we’re headed as we drink down the past.
Shawn sat on the plane and drank ginger ale.
He told me the stories of how he had failed.
His family was waiting in Saskatchewan
to start their new lives in the hot Florida sun.
“I spent years breaking things that I love the most.
I feel cheap when I pray:
‘Father, Son, Holy Ghost.’”
Sit down on the train and they all look away -
staring down at their coffee and the newspaper page.
We’re all packaged well we’re all wrapped up and bound
we all practice distraction and don’t make a sound
We have our smoke and mirrors
we have our one act plays
we’re all trying to scream in the quietest way
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5. |
Cradle to Cradle
04:50
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This is pushing through the breakers - tracing your fingers across the lines as cracks become chasms. Don't the details drag you down. I'm changing my clocks as this city comes around. Sit still for long enough to listen and you might find yourself again.
They've got their fingers on the button. They've got their paws in all my sores. An artillary of letters with blank pages to be stored. Today turned out just how I planned. You don't seem to understand.
We piled into a bus with some warm beer. It wasn't long before the air was stale. We turned our eyes inside and pressed our faces to the window waiting for nothing. You were all skin and chemicals like you'd just found yourself again.
They've got their fingers on the button. They've got their paws in all my sores. An artillary of letters with blank pages to be stored. Today turned out just how I planned. You don't seem to understand.
It's easy to slip when we're all dressed in black, when our eyes have gone blurry and your makeup is cracked, when everything shines and everthing's new, when everything's hazy and there's no one but you.
My door is locked in broad daylight. My eyes are open when I snore. I'll be buying generators when the power lines are taken over.
Today turned out just how I planned. You don't seem to understand.
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