1. |
garden
05:21
|
|||
|
there's no room on the garden bed for fruits or flowerheads. so i'll move aisles up again, you'll see the seeds instead. maybe it's just like falling down - the grain picks you up and leaves you in the ground.
and you'd think all these words coming true, but it's just me playing tricks on you. you can count 'till it's dark, it's real soon. it'll stem up the line and see through.
there's no forcing the one you're owed, it's better you never know the length between every row. what's there's not meant to grow. if only once, don't you think that's enough? i get off on you trying to act real tough, when you're really afraid.
it's like saving all of your bliss, only to unearth the myth - there's no better moment than this, and we failed several times to see it.
|
||||
2. |
found and lost
03:26
|
|||
|
you only notice when it's dark, nodding off and sinking further on. while you were waiting on the dawn, i snuck around and left you all withdrawn. a thing you can't sleep off, it rounds all of your edges soft. i'm trying hard to hurt, but somehow feel those words are gone.
if it's fire in my throat, don't look. i'll tend to it and throw through. i'm avoiding your eyes, staying out of sightline alight.
start to count the things you'll miss, soon to be a partial parting gift. it's not as much in things i've lived, but making up for things you thought you did. it's not like nodding off, remembering the things forgot. i'll turn the other cheek, but feel both of my fingers cross.
it reminds me what we both took from the other felt used, like a lost and found crate. i still think of that day.
|
||||
3. |
far too close
05:18
|
|||
|
turn the lights on and off again, as if it'll make a difference. i see you pulling loosely on both ends, and the pinholes start to open. i remember everything, romanticizing twin-size beds and the safety of my father's arms.
don't come too close, i'll hide behind the closet door and turn the lock. don't come too close, i'll turn you into something more than what you are.
if it's often, then how often? sum it up and never soften. laying cross-stitched on the carpet - slowing down but never stopping. stellar only when we're sleeping, it's the only thing i'm feeling. stitch the parcels back together, recall the message and the meaning.
run the water clean onto my head, just to see if it'll clear up again. i'm waiting for the memory to end, so i can see the river plain for the bends. i remember everything, romanticizing twin-size beds and the safety of my father's arms. please don't start the car until i make it to the point where i am through the door and i can see you shine your lights.
if it's leading through the narrow, follow through. is it with me? is it fading? can i go with you?
don't come too close, i'll lock you up in side a space inside my heart. don't come too close, i'll turn you into something more than what you are.
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
always wondered where you'd go, since you'd always come back safe i assumed it was somewhere nice. god's got something in their throat, all choked up and bereft of word - there's some things you just can't describe. i'm so scared of the thought of you, that's why it's taken me years to write. and i wonder how i'll go, whether grasped by the arm and flung, or assisted up every flight. if there'll be all the well-lit roads, all the columns refined from quartz, every hour a golden chime. they think little of things i do, and i can't seem to catch their eyes.
it's a wonder how i know all the trouble i've caused by now barely phases their umber heart. always checking for a change, always waiting on the rain, i'm still wondering where you are. so if this reaches then code me back, i remember your password last, keep it written on my arm. every mark's a parable, grandiose and yet so succinct. tried three times but the screen went dark.
every star gets connected by lines and i try to preserve the links. ain't it charming how every time i'm fixated on what you think?
if i'm looking down you best believe i'm coming now, leave some space for me.
|
||||
5. |
leaf/leave
04:10
|
|||
|
you lost me in each tree leaf. i'm peering down through a bough and listening. my god, i thought i saw you unmoving there. but you were glistening. you've lain down, outstretched across the grass and grooming the dirt around you. it's like i caught you in bloom, you look so happy, so light and new. every time i matched your eyes, the weight would bury into my chest. some deep down, some quiet space. that's how you left me, that's how you left. in truth, you parsed past my thoughts. i'm thinking maybe you meant all that. all cross-eyed, can't see the place where you were laying. i take it back. in each root and every sunspot, i feel your name sprawled on everything. come spring i won't know this place. neither will any leaf know of me.
|
||||
hail, mary recommends:
just found this one and damn football is a great track.
go to album
such an amazing collection of songs. some of the most beautiful stuff out there.
go to album
divorce lawyers i shaved my head
by jordaan mason and the horse museum
classic album. really hasn't gotten old or aged at all. some of the most visceral music i've ever heard regarding the subject matter jordaan tackles here.
go to albumIf you like hail, mary, you may also like:
Introspective, homespun folk tunes from John Donne that feel informed by the sugary bleakness of '80s and '90s indie pop.
go to album
Once Upon A Time In Montréal
by Murray A. Lightburn
The folk artist explores grief through these smooth and soulful tracks.
go to album
Hell on Church Street
by punchbrothers
A re-envisioning of Tony Rice's classic album "Church Street Blues" from Brooklyn progressive bluegrass quartet Punch Brothers.
go to album
