1. |
Killed the Bottles
05:31
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Summer passed w/out a trace
Left me still here in this place
Where nothing moves and every face
Is wrapped around pure empty space
And I killed the bottles one by one
Just like any mother’s son
And when the bottle’s dead and done
Go and get another one
Autumn came on wings of rain
Cooled the fever, helped the pain
Washed the window, cleaned the stain
Golden leaves across the lane
And I killed the bottles two by two
Just like anyone would do
Would you believe it, yeah, it’s true
I drank them all for only you
Winter came on kitten’s feet
Froze the fire, iced the streets
Fogged the breeze & killed the heat
Fumbled fingers, slowed the beat
And I killed the bottles three by three
Made a mess and let it be
Walked around so helplessly
Wasted as a blighted tree
Spring came in and washed me clean
Found me feral, lithe and lean
The sun arose, all bright and mean
I held that sun in high esteem
And I killed the bottles four by four
Just like every spring before
I walked around and opened doors
And let the sun fall on the floor
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2. |
Milwaukee Avenue
06:57
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It’s not so much that you left me alone
but now I’m bereft of a hope of a home.
And I used to have marrow inside these bleak bones.
Now they’re just hollow and weak as a moan
on a wind that barely can carry
my “Hallelujahs” or “Hail Marys.”
And all that I’m saying is all there is left to be said.
I’ll sing it instead.
It’s not that they sky gives a hint of release
but I’m straining for songs that can hold my belief
and hold your attention until like a thief
they take it away and return it to me
on a wind that don’t hardly matter
and comparisons rarely will flatter
but here and now when compared with then and there?
It just don’t compare.
The sidewalks are icy. The birds cry with cold.
Winter is not for the sick or the old.
And I’m not either one but I think I’ve been sold
on the option of trading the girl for the gold.
And love is the kind of illusion
that carefully crafts our confusion.
And there’s something so silent that’s screaming here in my head:
it’s blue and it’s red.
I’m reaching for you and I’m preaching the blues.
You’re sleeping out on Milwaukee Avenue.
I’ve paid the piper his debts and his dues
but I wish we could share our distress at the news
each morning in the daily paper:
all of these crimes and these capers.
All put together by figures of fear and bad business.
But I’m learning forgiveness.
All hearts are heavy, there’s ash in the air.
War is the language of human despair.
And our fondest daydream is nature’s nightmare
and my heart since you left is a branch rendered bare
of birds or of blossoms or berries,
of apples or peaches or cherries.
And if you don’t come back then these limbs will not live to be limber.
I hear someone shouting “Timber!”
From the dunes of the desert to the straits of the sea,
no bargains, no blessings - just brutality.
And I don’t know if I’m smart, but I think I can see:
we treat life like it’s worthless ‘cause we got it for free
but I swear and what’s more I promise
from now on to live totally honest.
And from the curve of your hips all the way to the curve of your smile
I’m living in style.
That low moaning sound that you heard from the ground
is the cry of the devil now that he’s found
that there’s no salvation in turning around:
it’s forward and forward, ever forward we’re bound.
So forward I’m plowing forever
and it’s late but I know it’s not never.
But I’m hoping and praying there’s good cause to hope and to pray.
But I’m crying today.
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3. |
The Girl Who Cried Saved
03:41
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The girl who cried saved
she said was a brave one.
She had no heart
so she made one
out of straw and rocks and clay.
Hey hey hey.
The girl who cried saved,
I met her in Yuba City.
I said “Babe, you’re all painted and pretty.”
She said, “Boy,
you’re as sharp as a blade.”
Hey hey hey.
The girl who cried saved,
she didn’t love me that often
but there was one time in Stockton
when it was certainly love
that we made.
Hey hey hey.
The girl who cried saved,
she didn’t know no redeemer.
Nothing I could say could ever redeem her.
But I’ll remember,
if I may.
Hey hey hey.
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Will Stenberg Portland, Oregon
Will Stenberg is searching for the perfect marriage of text and tune, mediated by himself with maximum honesty. He spends a lot of time writing songs and has a vague, persistent hope that there is an audience for them. He is from a small town, has lived in various parts of the US, and is full of love and unease. ... more
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