Just leased out our place in NYC
The album takes first place
Homelessness ensues
Chaos long overdue
But for the sake of the art we let go
Take control of our creation
Letting go of a constant state of consistency
Not much to envy
High hopes for distinctions unknown
We just let up
And let go
Sometimes the mind
Gets worn in
Dwindle thin
Leaving nothing behind
But rags and turpentine
Yet I find time
To be renewed
Unwind
Start the clock over
Begin again
We are tired
We are renewed
People pass away
While the lines
Pass through
We are tired
But life goes on
–
The city life is for the living
Night becomes day
Day becomes night
With no differentiation
Souls worn in
Changed with no hesitation
The city builds one day after the other
The great manifestation
I will go to the fields
Farms and lakes
While the city drives away
Never stopping to say
Hello or goodbye
It simply runs
All day
All night
Such a simple situation
Such great life lessons
Pulled up to the train
Running for a 12
When we needed 11
Car pulls up behind a young guy
Grabbed his bags
While we hustled running
He was slightly ahead
But moved worth slight delay
Made swift eye contact as we made our way
Running to the train with only seconds no delay
I realized the slowly fellow
Was left on the platform there
I can’t say why
The conductor moved with no delay
But it must have been the effort we displayed
Giving every ounce to make it in mere seconds
While the other fellow was left
Waiting for hours
Welcome aboard he said
I’ll take your tickets
You made it just in time
He said with a wiry smile
Go on ahead
And find a seat on the nearest isle
When I reflected on that moment I realized mere seconds were between me and the other guy
But the display of effort and quickness
Has a great deal to teach me about perception and life lessons
That in mere seconds hard work has shown it’s form
Viewed by the conductor
While the other gentlemen was left on the platform
–
Damp stillness in the Hudson Valley
Rocks broken
The cold ground
Swirves so violent and gentle
The Tectonic is avoided
Longer paths are better enjoyed
20 minutes from civilization
But 2 hours from the city
In the studio
Committed and gritty
On a Friday
In the August blush
The lightness of air
Held from highest peaks
Falling soft
On my face and cheeks
Holding air light
In lungs tight
I can only have moments
Which are
Never enough
Studio hours
Layered with contoured flowers
Decisions scoured
Around and over hours
Speakers pushing vibrations
Ears in full salutation
Summed with amps
Knobs awaiting determination
We apply ourselves
Throughout the daytime minutes
–
I hope
For more synchronicity
Pulling together songs
In artistic creation
14 hours of straight driving
It’s a New York night
Fuck.
You know I don’t eat that anymore
The smell of processed meats
Leaking through the cracked door
Orange yellow eggs smashed in
Not quite sure if it the slightest smell of plastic
That did me in
Logs of meat hammered out
Full of sodium bicarbonates
The thoughts just frustrates
But on Sunday mornings the family still enjoys
The processed meats
Made from recycled toys
A Cup of Songwriting 