I wrote a song yesterday from my hotel room outside of Minneapolis. I think I'll probably add to it, but here's a quick-and-dirty little recording I made this morning of what it is right now. Hope you enjoy it:
For days upon days I’ve been dreaming awake
of you calling me up, and we know just what to say.
But doors have been shut and the well has run dry
and my cast iron throat it can’t ask for advice.
We say cheers to the present,
we empty out the glass,
talk about where we’re headed as we drink down the past.
Shawn sat on the plane and drank ginger ale.
He told me the stories of how he had failed.
His family was waiting in Saskatchewan
to start their new lives in the hot Florida sun.
“I spent years breaking things that I love the most.
I feel cheap when I pray:
‘Father, Son, Holy Ghost.’”
Sit down on the train and they all look away -
staring down at their coffee and the newspaper page.
We’re all packaged well we’re all wrapped up and bound
we all practice distraction and don’t make a sound
We have our smoke and mirrors
we have our one act plays
we’re all trying to scream in the quietest way