Stats for this track
In 7 Sets
- 20 Tracks, 1.23.02
- 30 Tracks, 1.59.59
- 45 Tracks, 3.07.31
- 3 Tracks, 11.57
- 3 Tracks, 12.37
This song began last summer, then was put aside until I finished it up yesterday; finally feeling the mood again. Enjoy! Artwork nipped from Aleksandra Antic! http://www.aleksandraantic.com/
I always see you there,
laid in the blades of buffalo grass.
Pages of lichen guests, emblazed with life like dreams
Cicadas will thrash and kiss
like a train wreck of dying violins,
like typewriters speak in code,
with words that can make you bright.
The pavement is cracked from the roots,
it’s obvious which one will one day win,
ending the place where you begin.
A simple field between the roads and lines,
a better thing than plastic turned to bone.
Before some clumsy hand turned you to stone.
The window half emblazed,
a stream of the light with the shades drawn down;
a flurry of specks and dots and shadows of long lost leaves.
Memories long and old, a passage of mossy cobblestones,
a shaking of life in a storm, with rains that can make you shine,
the tire below the old tree, untethered from it’s noose,
it’s face washed out.
The spot near where you found
the trail between the homes and lines,
the safest place from plastic turned to bone,
before some clumsy hand turns you to stone.