1. |
Evelyn
03:38
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You were cradled in my hands, head in the crook of my arm, you were falling asleep, to rhythm of my restless heart, and the patter of footsteps, and voices down the hall, I sigh with relief, as your heavy eyelids fall. Leaning back in my chair, with you on my chest, I keep reliving the moment I finally stopped holding my breath. When you opened your eyes, and cleared your lungs, we realized the rest of our lives had suddenly begun. Evelyn.
I’ve searched and left no stone unturned, just trying to find the perfect words, but there’s no lullaby or song I’ve heard that even comes in close. I’ve read books that broke my heart, laid my eyes on priceless works of art, no poet or philosopher ever put in down in prose. What I have come to know.
If you get my sense of humour, I hope you have her laugh, determination and grace, there’s no substitution for that. One day you’ll run, maybe one day you’ll sing, I know you’ll grow every day, it’s a bittersweet thing. So, I’ll make our time count, while there’s still time to dream, just remember one day to save a dance for me. Evelyn.
I’ve searched and left no stone unturned, just trying to find the perfect words, but there’s no lullaby or song I’ve heard that even comes in close. I’ve read books that broke my heart, laid my eyes on priceless works of art, no poet or philosopher ever put in down in prose. What I have come to know.
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2. |
Go to Seed
03:55
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I have this fear, that when you're gone, the parts of me I shared with you will all be lost. I know it makes no sense, but what if in the end, I'm left with a just this song and all the things I wish I'd said.
When the flowers go to seed, when the barren maple sleeps, until the breath early Spring, when all we've sewn finds room to grow again, she'll know your love, and carry your name.
When I'm all alone, with your records on, I can almost hear you telling me you love song. I know it makes no sense, but what if in the end, I'm left with just the chorus, imagining you're with me singing it.
When the flowers go to seed, when the barren maple sleeps, until the breath early Spring, when all we've sewn finds room to grow again, she'll know your love, and carry your name.
Just a single spark, in thesky full of stars, I don't know where this goes, but I know where it starts.
When the flowers go to seed, when the barren maple sleeps, until the breath early Spring, when all we've sewn finds room to grow again, she'll know your love, and carry your name.
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3. |
Have You Stay
02:58
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You said close the door behind you when you leave, the way it moves all on it’s own gives me the creeps. I’m gonna to lie awhile in the glow of the TV, in and out of sleep while the voices comfort me.
I wanna call you up, I wanna hear you say, just go back to bed, everything will be ok. I wanna hear your voice whispering my name, if I had the choice, I’d have you stay.
I still wake up at 3am thinking that you’re home, but it’s just the devil checking in. You said the said at night was like a jar of fireflies, cradled in the hands of child. Because the ones that burn the brightest never truly fade away.
I wanna call you up, I wanna hear you say, just go back to bed, everything will be ok. I wanna hear your voice whispering my name, if I had the choice, I’d have you stay.
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4. |
Halifax to Maine
03:34
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Keeping you up, until your phone hits you in the face. Chewing on the grudge, like gum that’s lost its taste. Headlights make the shadows ripple on the ceiling like the wake, of some distant destroyer or a heron snatching prey.
While the workshop hums with a silence I can’t place, as my chest gives way to an all too familiar weight. There’s a charcoal haze like a pastel grey behind an incandescent bulb and a 60 year old shade.
Call me when you get there safe, I know you try your best, but I worry anyways. Don’t tell me everything’s ok, like I don’t know the look on your face. Just let me know you’re coming home safe. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear you say. Call me even if it’s late, I don’t mind you keeping me awake.
Ribcage for a songbird, and butterfly guts lovesick to be seasick with landlocked luck, from Halifax to Maine it’s enough If it’s just us, a honeymoon escape in the grip of winter’s clutch.
Call me when you get there safe, I know you try your best, but I worry anyways. Don’t tell me everything’s ok, like I don’t know the look on your face. Just let me know you’re coming home safe. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear you say. Call me even if it’s late, I don’t mind you keeping me awake.
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5. |
On Wild Feet
03:48
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It’s my terrible timing, it’s the ground that keeps on sliding, it’s the troubled look in your eyes, when you look into mine. It’s the we’ll travelled love song, it doesn’t lose its meaning even when we get the words wrong, it’s the hurt we hide, the strength we find inside.
Love, the river is deep, the mountain is high. Love, the winter is harsh, and long is the night.
Come stand beside the fire.
I feel my heart race, as my fingertips chase, the hair from the side of your cheeks. The way your lips taste, my hands on your waist, pulling you closer to me.
As we dance on wild feet.
It’s what we’ve overcome, it’s every time we could’ve undone, it’s the way I see the world through your eyes when you look into mine.
Love, the river is deep, the mountain is high. Love, the winter is harsh, and long is the night.
Come stand beside the fire.
I feel my heart race, as my fingertips chase, the hair from the side of your cheeks. The way your lips taste, my hands on your waist, pulling you closer to me.
As we dance on wild feet.
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6. |
The Stray
03:54
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I remember when I was a boy, dirt on my face and fire in my chest, wearing out the soles of my shoes running wild, carried away with my imagination again. Me and my friends.
Taking stock of all we’ve done, do we always hurt the ones we love?
Taking stock of all we’ve done, we were only having fun.
Have we strayed, too far from home? If I turn the page, will I be alone?
Sometimes broken bones heal crooked, most of the time broken words hurt more, once I left myself open, you moved in and changed the locks on the door. You don’t live here anymore.
Taking stock of all we’ve done, do we always hurt the ones we love?
Taking stock of all we’ve done, we were only having fun.
Have we strayed, too far from home? If I turn the page, will I be alone?
You took the place of faith and doubt, kissed me on the mouth and sold me out. When I turned to face the growing crowd, you were nowhere to be found. You were nowhere to be found.
Taking stock of all we’ve done, do we always hurt the ones we love?
Taking stock of all we’ve done, we never meant to hurt anyone.
Have we strayed, too far from home? If I turn the page, will I be alone?
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7. |
Running Downhill
03:44
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8. |
Namesake
04:52
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The faded paint, the rusty drain, palm-burnished brass and porcelain cracked with age. The out-of-service pay phone, carved with jokes and love notes, hieroglyphics and constellations, both complex and aimless.
The death of a namesake and my high school mourns today, from the chapel to the stage.
I’ll weigh each important decision, as I make my precise incisions, fortify my steadfast divisions, drain the blood until it runs from your cup.
If I close my eyes, it’s 1995, your answering machine couldn’t come at worse time. Grey carpet stairs, dust suspended in a solar-flare, I’m on a flickering signal, broadcasting from nowhere.
The shadows of my childhood room, have taken on the shape of you, I’m still too scared to look away.
I’ll weigh each important decision, as I make my precise incisions, fortify my steadfast divisions, drain the blood until it runs from your cup. Take the shot and surrender my position, rendered senseless and possessed by each revision, walk among the wolves in quiet sub-divisions, drain the blood until it runs from your cup.
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9. |
Lessons In Pain
04:31
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You bit down on my lip. until I tasted blood. You made me feel useful, like I was enough. You said there's a lesson in pain, how much are you willing to hurt? You'll just know when the moment arrives, how much trouble it's worth. How much trouble it's worth.
Not to be lonely, not to fight on your own, when you just need shelter, when you want to go home, but home's just a memory you've crafted over time, like the words on a napkin form beautiful rhymes. Don't look so defeated, don't look so afraid, you get fire from friction there's lessons in pain.
You finished your coffee, and stood up to leave. Your eyes burned with the questions, we didn't even need to speak. I was two steps behind you, before I'd even realized I'd moved. Reaching for you like I'd gone through the ice, is it worth the worst we put each other through? Is it worth it for you?
Not to be lonely, not to fight on your own, when you just need shelter, when you want to go home, but home's just a memory you've crafted over time, like the words on a napkin form beautiful rhymes. Don't look so defeated, don't look so afraid, you get fire from friction there's lessons in pain.
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10. |
Willow Tree
03:54
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I thought I saw you in the willow tree, I thought I heard you trying to comfort me, I wanted to be strong when you couldn’t be, I thought I saw you in the willow tree.
Now I’m clutching at the smoke of a faded memory, I can feel it in my fingertips but it just passes right between. And there’s a makeshift shrine, in the roots and vines, and the limbs that bow and weep, over the coloured stones and flowers grown to mark the place your body sleeps.
I thought I saw you in the willow tree, I thought I heard you trying to comfort me, I wanted to be strong when you couldn’t be, I thought I saw you in the willow tree.
You said it’s a well-written love, you’ll never know how good it was, until your tangled up in all your grief, that’s ringing in your head like a melody. It’s an iron fist in a velvet glove, knowing this moment had to come, and still felt like a sucker punch, even when I knew what the ending was. It’s a well written love, the one they wrote for us, staggered on a broken beat, rolling on off my tongue like sour candy.
I thought I saw you in the willow tree, I thought I heard you trying to comfort me, I wanted to be strong when you couldn’t be, I thought I saw you in the willow tree.
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11. |
The Wasp [For Trent]
03:27
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Sing me to sleep, the crickets and the waves, morning smells like cigarettes and coffee, as you come into frame. Clumsily the wind pulls at your chimes, stumbles by your towels on your line, conversation picks up just outside, I mostly sit and listen 'cause I'm shy.
Do you recall the wasp that drowned, swimming in your drink?
Everything seems so small, maybe I just fill more space, I wanna stay with you and watch the water, as it swallows up the rain. Clumsily the wind pulls at your chimes, stumbles by your flowers in a line, conversation picks up just outside, I mostly sit and listen 'cause I'm shy.
Do you recall the wasp that drowned, swimming in your drink?
We broke the surface of the lake, and lost the time ‘til evening came again, cool summer air on our sunburnt skin, you’d build a fire the sun turned in. Clumsily the wind lifts our goodbyes, stumbles like a deep-breath and a sigh, conversation picks up back inside, then carried on into the night.
Do you recall the wasp that drowned, swimming in your drink?
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12. |
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What if I never grow as tall as my old man, what if nothing ever goes off quite the I planned, what if I never learn from my foolish mistakes, will I buckle under pressure, will I know which risks to take.
If I lay it on the table will you fold and walk away, is a chance to beat unlikely odds enough to make you stay, I’ve never been a gambler but I’d take that wager every day, I’ve never been that lucky, but this might just go my way.
She says, when you’ve bound yourself in worries and in doubts, like weights chained to you ankles dragging down, when the distance from the surface grows and you begin to drown, I’ll always be the one who pulls you out, I’ll always been the one who sticks around.
No one’s empty handed who’s got hand to hold, no good story starts with doing what you’re told, triumph is the sum of many failures, so the story goes, I’ve no appetite to face this life alone.
She says, when you’ve bound yourself in worries and in doubts, like weights chained to you ankles dragging down, when the distance from the surface grows and you begin to drown, I’ll always be the one who pulls you out, I’ll always been the one who sticks around.
Before the final bow, before the curtains come down, before the lights all go out, before I lose you in the crowd. Before the final bow, before the curtains come down, before the lights all go out, before I lose you in the crowd, I’ll always be the one who sticks around.
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13. |
Lay Me Down
03:42
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Wolves of quiet homes, I’ve seen your faces. Some I’ve known for years, and others just acquaintances. A couple breeding cycles into domestication. You lost your thirst for blood, but not for fascination.
Lay me down, at the foot of your bed. Lay me down, in clothes of a good friend.
Glint of a diamond ring, well painted eyes, or bare-skin. Anything forbidden. With no use for your grand-parents religion, no desire for anything not earned but given.
Lay me down, at the foot of your bed. Lay me down, in clothes of a good friend.
It’s like a hook on a string, dancing like a boxer with her ghosts. Baited with the sweetest nothings, to hide the bitter taste of foolish hope.
Lay me down, at the foot of your bed. Lay me down, in clothes of a good friend.
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14. |
Stained Glass Saint
04:41
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Gathered on their flooded front lawns, your clothes are soaked, you may as well just take them off. When everyone else is undressed, no one really notices.
Your neighbors boarded two by two, under heavy sheets of rain, there wasn’t any room for you, it just worked that way. That’s when you saw her on the roof, in her bathing suit, smiling down at you, like a stained-glass saint, with her golden frame aglow against the swirling skies of grey, like a stained-glass saint, with almost nothing on.
You feel the wake before you see its shape, little waves that break around your waist. You wade into the street, to find they’re already at capacity.
Your neighbors boarded two by two, under heavy sheets of rain, there wasn’t any room for you, it just worked that way. That’s when you saw her on the roof, in her bathing suit, smiling down at you, like a stained-glass saint, with her golden frame aglow against the swirling skies of grey, like a stained-glass saint, with almost nothing on.
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David Stone Barrie, Ontario
Singer/songwriter and musician based in Ontario, Canada.
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