1. |
St. Francis
04:58
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I can read all your thoughts,
But alas, not your face,
When you flash on the screen,
And you’re gone, not a trace.
After your sermon that
Keepers hiss like a snake,
All your brothers and your sisters
Fall asleep but you’re still wide awake.
All your wisdom emits
A sweet little chirp and chime.
(Tweet tweet, tweet tweet tweet!)
Little pearls that you polish though they
Crumble all by next week’s time, and
Old Man Turner’s come and gone,
Left the bags we drag along.
Well you left on the stove,
And the pot that you stirred
Bubbled over all the while you’re
Preaching to a tree that’s full of birds.
Never mind that they sing,
Teach ‘em your sarabande.
It’s the strings on your hand,
It’s a coat, it’s a brand.
With their beaks on the feed,
And begging you to astound.
(Tweet tweet, tweet tweet tweet!)
They’re so eager to gag on hashtag
Mouthmeal that they swallow down.
Sitting perched on the wire,
They sing of your feats of charm.
(Tweet tweet, tweet tweet tweet!)
But that’s not what I hear when you go
Sounding the alarm.
Saint Francis,
Don’t bother me.
Old Man Turner’s come and gone,
Left the bags we drag along.
Left and right we walk the road,
Children of the same source code.
Old Man Turner’s gone away,
Never thought we’d see the day.
Crusade with our butchered prose,
Wearing all his dirty clothes.
Share the spirit of the Pharisees.
Oh no! Saint Francis, don’t bother me.
Retweet all the wicked melodies.
Oh no! Saint Francis, don’t bother me.
And the chariot swings
Low enough, no complaints.
‘Cause we know you’re the man,
But the man’s not a saint.
But look up, and I swear,
Only vultures hear prayers.
At the top of the stairs,
No one cares;
They’ll push you down but you’re too
Busy counting characters while you’re splitting hairs.
Saint Francis,
Don’t bother me.
Tweet tweet tweet tweet–
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2. |
Elephants
07:27
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Inside of your mind, and out the corner of your eye.
No disbelief, just assume, when the elephants are in the room.
Well, we bolted up the doors, but they came
Out of the floors and the walls.
The curtains opened with a tortured twist and crawl.
Never disbelieve, just assume when the elephants are in the room.
Inside of your mind,
And all so very disaligned.
Well, the gnawing on our lips met the
Indifferent eclipse in the hall.
Our questions answered when they didn’t talk at all.
Never disbelieve, just assume when the elephants are in the room.
Inside of your mind,
And out the corner of your eye.
All so disaligned,
The notions as they pass you by.
No disbelief, just assume when the elephants are in the room.
They only reside
In broken mirrors and although
They seem so alive,
There’s nothing there but ash and snow.
Better be holding the broom when the elephants are in the room.
All too close up.
A hand wrapped around your waist but keep your fucking mouth shut.
Meet me halfway
Between our silence and our cries will simply melt away.
Keep your fucking mouth shut!
With the bedroom overrun
By all the skeletons dancing around,
Look out the window as we burn it to the ground.
Things lost in the fire,
The picture frames have all resigned.
Tossed into the pyre,
The memories we leave behind.
No disbelief just assume when the elephants are in the room.
Rise out of the well,
They amble slowly on their way.
They’ll follow the trail,
And will until your dying day.
Willingly lead to the tomb when the elephants are in the room.
Well, we bolted up the doors, but they came
Out of the floors and the walls.
The curtains opened with a tortured twist and crawl.
Never disbelieve, just assume when the elephants are in the room.
No disbelief, just assume when the elephants are in the room…
Keep your fucking mouth shut!
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3. |
Paper Doll
04:31
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If I had a paper doll to love and call my own,
With scissors in my hands to guard my heart that turned to stone,
By morning ceasefire,
maybe I’d retire
The artful dodger’s guidance,
And we’ll just sit in silence.
With a wearied look of prayer and sorrow as her eyes
Hold someone else’s thoughts to think
In her tears of ink, and
I would rather have a paper doll than the shadows of the reason why.
The sharp fruit of a gentle frame,
Littered with an absent name.
Wanton sport of children’s games,
Seek and hide in
Fortresses and bubbles
Of ingenious puzzles.
Afternoon leaves her so pale,
But the rips and tears have their own grace
As she falls back into my frail embrace,
Tighter still as we’re both swept away,
Another windy day.
How I wish to hold her faith in empty amber skies.
Lay down her head beneath the palms,
Wrap her in a coat of arms, and
I would rather have a paper doll than the shadows of the reason why.
Moment’s rest in sand subsides
With the rising of the evening tide…
Either callous fate or an outrageous fortune
Spinning a wheel tenacious as the water’s bend.
And a familiar thief pushes against the ocean,
But with every ebb it flows right back again.
If I had a paper doll to love and call my own,
With scissors in my hands to guard my heart that turned to stone,
By morning ceasefire,
maybe I’d retire
The artful dodger’s guidance,
And we’ll just sit in silence.
All the ways it breaks my hear can never be described.
It’s the pride before the fall.
All at once or not at all, and
I would rather have a paper doll than the shadows of the reason why.
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4. |
Parade
04:29
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A careless mess of words,
And we’re caught between the lines,
Like a smile of affection in a pair of narrowed eyes.
We blink, but don’t you see?
It’s so funny, after all.
Every time we try to untangle our stubborn shoes we trip and fall.
Fireworks that fly out of our hands.
Blinding smoke, but out the windows you can hear the marching band.
Oh darlin’, we’re so silly when we’re angry,
Even worse when we’re afraid
Of all the things we’ve been and where the time has gone.
Oh darlin’, you’re so eager but you’re stallin’.
Oh, what would happen if we stayed?
For the parade has just begun.
The shadows that we chase,
Diving in and out of sight,
But we lost them and then ourselves in a festival of lights.
The days we never seize
Drag us under by our feet.
Soon we gave in and were swept away by the commotion in the streets.
Fanfares jump and shout with buoyant strain.
Carrying us as we haplessly march in the pouring rain.
Oh darlin’, we’re so silly when we’re angry,
Even worse when we’re afraid
Of all the things we’ve been and where the time has gone.
Oh darlin’, don’t you know we’re always fallin’,
So you can never fall behind.
And the parade has just begun.
Set adrift in crowd and so far out of our depth,
But we always forget to hold our breath.
Just what are restless minds,
But a lamp without a shade?
People always end their stories right before the final page.
Temptations overwhelm,
Like the tears before they drop.
Love and acrimony swirling ‘round inside a frantic spinning top.
And we both know that we can’t make it stop.
Make it stop!
Oh darlin’, we’re so silly when we’re angry,
Even worse when we’re afraid
Of all the things we’ve been and where the time has gone.
But darlin’, time is always merely crawlin’,
And you didn’t miss a thing,
For the parade has just begun.
Oh darlin’, heaven knows just where we’re going,
But does it matter anyway?
No one gets out alive and nothing’s ever done.
We’re older, but the story is not over,
And there’s so much more to see,
And the parade has just begun.
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Jesse Featherstone New York, New York
Jazz/classical pianist, composer, percussionist, singer/songwriter trying to survive the music industry in NYC (for the moment).
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