Golden Hay

13 Jan
0

Recently, I was suffering from ridiculous allergies, but when I finally recovered I felt better adapted to living in West Virginia. Living in the hills is just so thick and dense that if you aren’t used to it, it feels like trying to eat a whole stick of butter with no bread. There is a sense that your future does not exist and your present can not be changed.

Coupled with that, is the black and purply feeling of death… or more specifically..
1. A black feeling of our human reality being sandwiched between so many other, non-human realities which cannot be understood, much less controlled.
2. A purple feeling that the whole of our life is just a dot in eternity, and even a dot in the larger picture of who we are.
That is my impression anyway, I doubt a single other person would agree with me. But I do think you have to run your furnace hotter here to avoid being swallowed up by feelings of futility and fatalism.
At any rate, this song was inspired by my newfound appreciation for West Virginia.  After my allergies, I could see more of the value in accepting life as it is, rather than always trying to sculpt it into a shape of my choice.

 

Golden Hay

 

Life
may not be real
Pikey what a thing to say
you know that you weren’t raised that way

And yet
sometimes I fear
God has left me so alone
a million miles from any home

To walk a road that has no end
The golden hay lies beyond the bend.

But why would we break?
Why would we cry?
In the end it’s only pain
we’ve known it in so many ways

I know
she felt it too
Remember her, that little bird
so soft we never heard a word

A hint of pink behind the door
and in the end a pile of feathers on the floor

Pikey, you know it won’t be long
Take my hand, I can feel their eyes
descending from the bluest skies

My gun
My iron bar
Life remember I was your friend
I knew that you had no end

Your fields were filled with golden hay
Three clouds they fly above then slowly drift away.

 

Download Mp3: Golden Hay

Testify

30 Dec
0

 

A Night to Remember

I see you smiling in your gold frame, baby, but I always turn away my eye.
I see the chief out with his gold star shining, but he knows I’ll never testify.
I won’t testify.

People ask me all the time now how are you doing when they know I’m never gonna say.
They all heard me screaming on that black night, baby, but they only turned and walked away.
I won’t testify.

You can’t go waiting too long little baby or you know the fingerprints will rust.
You can’t go waiting too long little baby or the bones are gonna turn to dust
I won’t testify.

I walk outside of your apartment building, baby, and the gall starts to fill my throat.
I pray that God will burn it down to the ground, but as for me I’ll never rock the boat.
I won’t testify.

I keep my eyes down on the sidewalk, baby, because everybody makes me cry.
Every sweet smile is just another fucking person who will stand there as they watch me die.
I won’t testify.

I see their little fingers lifting up the blinds and their eyes peering eagerly.
I know they’ll stand there, they’ll never lift a hand when they see the man come for me.
I won’t testify.

Anybody who stands up to the man is gonna be the one to take the blame.
I lay your gun out on my living room mantle right next to your picture frame.
I won’t testify.

I walk at night out with a big stick, baby, but I know it won’t keep bad away.
You always said that when the man’s out to get you he can always find another way.
I won’t testify.

I asked the officer now how can I help you, when you know I can’t recall a thing.
I only saw a hand swing out of the darkness and the flash of a diamond ring.
I won’t testify.

I got some secrets that I wouldn’t mind sharing, but there ain’t nobody I can trust.
They talk so sweet with all their big eyes smiling, but it’s evil covered up in crust.
I won’t testify.

I try to tell myself to myself to go to California and to rearrange my style of hair.
It used to seem like such a big world, baby, till I found out that nobody cares.
I won’t testify.

I cry at night over them white bones, baby, but I always let them to turn to dust.
I lay your gun out on my bedside table, then I only sit and watch it rust.
I won’t testify.

 

Download Mp3: Testify

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