1. |
Wandering Star
03:45
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2. |
Beaten For The Light
02:55
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3. |
Garlic and Vine
03:07
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The frayed shaft of the sun
Makes the tower in the light jump into falsetto
What do you consider fun?
We can settle in the bandshell and play games with the echo
I wanted to write you a short song
But I didn’t have time
So I wrote you a long one
t made gods of garlic and vine
They say find what you love and let it kill you:
No, find what you love and let it keep you alive
The dawn leapt from its bed and dissolved the stars
We went from counting our blessings to counting cars
And the bars on the window
Anything to keep our heads from our pillows
I wanted to write you a glad song, but I didn’t have time
So I wrote you a sad one
And made gods of garlic and vine
We sat on a bench and watched roses end
Let one oar sweep the water, and the other swept the strand
I shut my mouth, hymning the rising sun
It got sadder and it got weirder, then I was gone
Found this iron bar
Make a spade for me.
With what’s left, make a hoe for me.
With what’s left, make an axe for me.
With what’s left, make a dagger for me.
Won’t be fire, be water next time
Keep a stained-glass conscience and a burrowing mind
We know so few ways to begin a life
So many ways to leave one behind.
I wanted to write you a sad song, but I didn’t have time
So I wrote you a bad one
And made gods of garlic and vine
I wanted to write you a glad song, but I didn’t have time
So I wrote you a sad one
It made gods of garlic and vine.
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4. |
The Morris Column
04:20
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5. |
It's Dawn
03:49
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6. |
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7. |
First-Person Spectacular
02:29
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8. |
Champagne Sammy
02:58
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9. |
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10. |
New River, Spring For Me
05:12
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I have known the blade, the blossom, and the fruit; and now I know their withering
There are mountain hours that take all day to climb
And downhill days you descend singing
One eye on the crowd and one on the moon
Your father was the rough sea, and you are the schooner
Sails grown big-bellied with the wanton wind
I sing of bars and the man
the scars and the bands
the barchipelago
Scattered dots on the map
Morse code lines that trap them
in the punk rock telegraph
“I don’t think about the past”
backed with “My memory is poor”
Which is the A-side, I’m not really sure, but
New river, spring for me
Spill your way across the open country
Carry me down to the vast sea
A bronze-bound vessel with a bone in her teeth
New river, spring for me
Carry me down to the wild sea
Spill your way across the open country
Neither for me the honey or the honey bee
There’s a pretty bad sound coming from the right front wheel
But not too bad if you sing along in key
The return of dreams the first week of sober sleep
The rush of eager overwhelming feeling
“People try to be good, but not that hard,” she said
“Lined up at the banks with their beaks open to the sky
Squawking forlornly as if waiting to be fed
And every night before I go to sleep, just for a moment, I wish that I was dead.”
But new river, spring for me
Spill your way across the open country
Carry me down to the vast sea
A bronze-bound vessel with a bone in her teeth
New river, spring for me
Carry me down to the wild sea
Spill your way across the open country
Neither for me the honey or the honey bee
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Franz Nicolay New York
To us, the beautiful - and to those who disagree, may their eyes fall out.
Franz Nicolay recommends:
Maybe my favorite current band? Certainly the one that gives me the most joy when their songs come on.
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