1. |
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I fall into these sentimental
Spirited daydreams, American paintings
Maybe I was meant for another day
Maybe I've seen too many dog day movies about coming of age
Anywho there's something about a pebble
Summoning her to her window sill
There's something about a copper kettle
Whistling in the morning dew
Echoed by a train passing through under great basin full moon
Maybe they both are true
Maybe home's where it makes you
They like the old joke about the history major
The one that ends "so you see that's how
I came to be your waiter"
But he don't tell of the Civil War piano songs
Lonesome anecdotes from Bull Run
Or memoirs of midwestern sunsets
He just says "forget everyone I'm a Hemingwayan fisher bum
I'm an Antebellum drifter's sun
I'm a goddamn Babe Ruth home run".
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2. |
Eiji
03:33
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Well I moved into Laurel, rented a room below
The one in which you used to call your own humble abode
I played you sloppy sandcrab, we formed a little band
The JSA had a fat stage but no one gave a damn
We'd take that 15 line up to class amid the woods
We'd share a spliff out in the meadow how we had it good
Said you wanted to die to Explosions in the Sky
I dreamt I led that quartet choir in your lamented time
Amassed above your casket
Flocked beneath a pine firmament
They said he was an easy riding traveler
With cloth cutout animals dangling from his drums
And eyes sewn you peered into the ether
I awoke to the sound of my own hum
Moved to that house on Broadway next to that sketch motel
The leased was pulled from below our feet so we fared thee well
My car packed to its brim I got fleas on Kurkjian's couch
You over at Buckleys I brought them to the Cayuga house
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3. |
Hwy Ghost
02:51
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The neighbor's house is the perfect eyesore
Obstructs the west ridge from our dingy front porch
Once a suburb between a coast and a bay
Now a blemished white home between jaunts away
Highways, hash pens, habitually honed
To the days spent stoned and turning time zones
Swollen lymph nodes, seldomly longing for home
Tetris-pack the back, latch the hatch, and take to the road
Carry on with your life in California, I look forward to the wedding invitation
My response via postcard written on
A bench in Savannah, Georgia under Willows
Telling of the chills I still get from the highway ghost I swear we saw
Crossing in white flesh and nonchalance
Daunting to everything I'd held as law
Probably the eeriest thing I ever saw
Recall it and she coasts back up my spinal column
Huddling a radio shrugging "we'll drive off that bridge when we get to it"
It's become the M.O.
So I'll create this voice that illustrates
Us dodging mud slides, apparitions, blizzards, rain
And to be frank I'd have it no other way
Quarter life, looming strife, about but not astray
Carry on with your life in California I look forward to the wedding invitation
My response via postcard from Vermont
Denver, Bloomington, Astoria, or maybe Windows
Telling of the chills I still get from the highway ghost I swear we saw
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4. |
Tumbleweeds
04:01
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She knows where I've been, waned memories
Convene strife, when this body sleeps
She only speaks in song, and periodic dreams
Yet I trust her word, knows it all it seems
And ever since I took to aging it's become apparent
There's this life that lurks below this living
And though my purest thought it seems narrates under dreams
She won't pen these words for me
So I'll sleep when the sun's touched the canopies
When the moon's made the muse of another's dreams
When the wind takes hold of the tumbleweeds
And elements have done what they do to me
Your mother looms, though at times at bay
In your swollen eyes, on your father's face
In the anxious days, on the open road
And the rose buds you seek, that was all she wrote
And ever since I took to aging it's become apparent
There's this life that lurks below this living
And though these late night remedies lull me into dreams
They're not letting streams be streams
So I'll sleep when the sun's touched the canopies
When the moon's made the muse of another's dreams
When the wind takes hold of the tumbleweeds
And elements have done what they do to me
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5. |
Juggling
02:04
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I'm having trouble keeping it all straight
Mom's emails and all of your birthdays
How many days this month I'll be in town
Gotta give the boss lady my dates
Put off putting out a demo tape
I suppose they're just the symptoms of my bopping around
Well I witnessed the morning dew
Adorning a Tennessee hillside in June
And I watched the sun bid adieu on Stockholm
And I saw the red shingled roofs
Lining Prague's golden hour hue
The real world will just have to wait until I feel like coming home
Now you ask me for my thoughts
Plain to see on your face I've not
Gratified your intellectual craving
But when it comes to how I feel
The best notions are at the wheel
Navigating old growth strung on some pipe dream
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6. |
Baywood
03:10
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Do you remember the bay tree?
Do you recall Saturdays at Trinta Field?
Longing for the chance at a fourth at bat
How worries were about things like that
Did you ever have Ms. Metzger?
I think Sorty must've taken a few years off her life
Silent ball was surely the direct response to him
Well Alex you should play again
Camped out on Casey's trampoline at night
We dinged and ditched every doorbell in sight
Teepeed the McMurdos for the 40th time
Came down at dawn off an adrenaline high
Took a bottle from dad's den
And traded tongue with Alex Warren in the tunnel
SMK showed up to beat my ass and you had my back
I will never forget that
Cut differently by time
But you and I are both of the same sheet of cloth
I hope San Francisco treats you fine and isn't as
Cold as Mark Twain leads on
Camp out on Casey's trampoline tonight
We'll ding and ditch every suburb in sight
Teepee the McMurdos for the 41st time
Come down at dawn off an adrenaline high
Crash out on Casey's denim couch for life
Until we're hitched neck-deep in debt and strife
Days dragging alongside the years flying by
But Baywood boys don't easy succumb to time
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7. |
Road to Winnemucca
02:22
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It got real hard to focus, my dreams weren't making sense
A hodgepodge of familiar flashes of gibberish
The winter time was gridlock, and summer started in the Keys
I knew it on Duval and Southard she was not for me
So I sought out freshwater bodies, rose prior to dawn
Traveled light and frequent, finished orphaned songs
Sketched the road to Winnemucca, and took a piss in the desert wind
Clad in grubby garments faint on sun-kissed skin
So may your head be present wherever your heart beats presently
I wish you the space for appreciation, patience for moderation
And conviction to endure a northwest winter's woes
Boldnest to leave your home and surely an essence ever young
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8. |
Wherever
03:26
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There's no more art on the walls or plants lining our little nook
No toolboxes, Quaker Oats or dirty dishes, no one who cooks
Mama Kate put a salivated finger to the wind and ended up in the bay
Maxie's over on 30th and Morrison, as for Milk I can't say
I'd like to tell you over bagels all's been simple, all is well
I keep a clean home, hide from the storm, turn strife to song like a spell
That the devil in me has found its reckoning in this skin
But it's been such an in-between year there are times I simply want in
Yet there's a pretty voice I hear singing
It echoes I go wherever I want
Maybe monkey wrench in Arches Park
Maybe become a cartographic savant
He passed off her hand under an altar of birch wood and then sat down
Pulled out that haggard old handkerchief he bought in that same old town
I squinted through teary eyes as snowcapped mountainsides melted off
Then spent the summer swimming, driving, drifting
Watching time go by soft
And there's a pretty voice I hear singing
It echoes I go wherever I want
Catch a ballgame at Pac Bell Park
Camp at a Sawtooth lily pond
Even though I fear I peaked a while ago
The salad days haven't wilted away, no
I am always becoming, I am always
That is why I have taken time on my soul
Sought out the perfect swimming hole
Written songs about nothing during normal business hours
Said "fuck a restaurant job"
There's a pretty voice I hear singing
It echoes I go wherever I want.
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