1. |
Fly on the Windowsill
04:06
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We're in a fuss about the right of way
when the car up front is overturned.
All of these nuts are trying to drive in my lane,
gonna see my baby girl.
And it's true that she lights me up slow,
and my downfall's a redhead composed,
but this time I've been liable to moan
since I got on the road.
Here in the night not getting what I want,
but let it suffice to turn my headlights on.
Sitting back driving not doing much at all
when my line of sight picks out a miscreant --
a fly on the windowsill.
Flutter down fly, you're such an unbearable thing,
and you won't go out the way you came in.
You're no friend of mine, and you better stay out of my way
as we cross these county lines.
And it's true that she lights me up slow,
and my downfall's a redhead composed,
but this time I've been liable to moan
since I got on the road.
Here in the night and I've waited far too long
with the radio droning this fucking asinine song.
It was my turn to drive, and I know what contracts are,
but it's a firm footed miracle I got this far.
On the outskirts of town, and I'm unbelievably late,
my knuckles white waiting at a red light.
Add fifteen on top over the backroads -- quarter to midnight
speeding recklessly down the street.
And it's true that she lights me up slow,
and my downfall's a redhead composed,
but this time I've been liable to moan
since I got on the road.
When a street light reveals my bitter enemy,
so I grab a CD case and I crush him utterly.
When I look up and see the wall coming at me,
I'm feeling alive, and I'm feeling close to death...
...I'm a fly on the windowsill.
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2. |
Van Emmon
03:08
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Well, I recall a wet fall
and the leaves upon the ground
and the half-sane teenage veins of mine
all popping out.
Some weekday evening, headed home
when there was no one else around,
a swift, dark doe crossed the road
right down Van Emmon.
With four wheels barely hanging on --
yeah, wobbling in their tracks --
and a beat up Stratocaster
lying in the back.
Already late by precious minutes
and inappropriately relaxed.
On the scenic route down through
the jade corridor of Van Emmon.
In a late night wrong decision
to obey a broken rule,
I didn't stay out long enough
to break into your parents' liquor cabinet
that the next day
I heard all about at school.
But on the drive back home,
I found the snow
to be shining and restful on Van Emmon.
When all my tethers snapped,
it left me free to float away.
And the wind was never stronger
than it was that day.
Soon a tiny little scribble
in the distance just remained.
But I held onto
that view
of Van Emmon.
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3. |
In My Head
03:35
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When you called me by my first name,
I looked around, waiting for somebody else to respond.
'Cus these days I've been surname-comma-Christopher,
or go by the last four digits of numbers assigned to me.
When you reached out a hand, I flinched first,
then "hello," and got in my head about whether you noticed.
Now the world in my cerebrum's hanging out,
I push in the right front corner and more spills out of the back.
If you're told it's illusion,
does that change anything?
Can't you pretend on purpose,
or believe anyway?
And when you see the fishing line, just look away?
The soft face of an angel from a picture book
is watching as all of your life unfolds.
Orange soda and crackers on a white tablecloth,
so this might not mean much to you, no good reason to stress out.
Call it an omen, call it what you will,
but I saw ten thousand vultures circling.
I'm more curious now than anxious which is good,
but none of the experts I contacted emailed me back.
A black flag on the ocean
bobbing in and out of sight
in a circular motion
that makes it harder to say if it
is moving closer or moving away.
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4. |
Maintenance Man
02:49
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I snapped some latex gloves on
to clean around the house,
and I bleached away the scum of ordinary living,
and I bagged garbage to throw out.
Guess who.
Last June I felt you flip it into overdrive.
To catch you
consumes my head my body and all my life.
And I eat at least three square meals every single day,
and about half I make myself,
and I'll sleep about a third of my entire life away,
but it's mine what time is left.
Guess who.
Last June I felt you flip it into overdrive.
To catch you
consumes my head my body and all my life.
If I keep on walking, I'm sure to arrive.
The world's of a finite size.
Although the maintenance man may pull me away,
it's just another hour or two to wait.
Guess who.
Last June I felt you flip it into overdrive.
To catch you
consumes my head my body and all my life.
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5. |
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Low down...
Too late to grow in my heart and my soul,
low down.
Too late to grow in my heart and my soul,
no place left to affix yourself.
Hidden in a canvas satchel
at the bottom of the heap by your dresser
is the proof you got the letter
and assumed your place above the law.
Too late to grow in my heart and my soul,
low down.
Four brown bottles in the crisper rolling around,
twenty more left straining your shelf,
but to use your amaretto, girl,
is a crime to be paid for out of pocket.
Too late to grow in my heart and my soul,
low down.
Too late to grow in my heart and my soul,
no place left to affix yourself.
Please, send a crew for me.
I'm in too deep.
I'm a loser but
I got no more time to field these signs, baby.
I'm the only one in this house awake,
so I put on shoes and walk away,
but you can always send a letter,
if you can spell my whole name properly.
Too late to grow in my heart and soul.
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6. |
The Same Five Words
02:48
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Never been a simple man
who can hold down whiskey enough not to bother.
I never been a wealthy man
with a fresh pressed ambivalence he picked up from his father.
Never been a skeleton
in a cold, gray crypt with his ancestors nearby.
I didn't let the stranger in,
'cus his weird, thick face felt so out of place next to mine,
but the same five words have I
as old and bitter men, and newborn children:
"What the hell is happening?"
Which of these bubbles do I fill in?
I got only respect for the con man,
'cus he gets them all
and tears their baseless pride
down a size.
Well I'm not one for etiquette,
if you're not here late, then you're in for a long wait,
but I'm not a degenerate
getting high on paint on the side of the interstate,
but I got the same five words
as old and bitter men, and newborn children:
"What the hell is happening?"
Which of these bubbles do I fill in?
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7. |
Jangling Bells
02:55
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I don't wanna wake up hot in your coffee.
You got a lot to say, and half or more is jargon or tough talk.
I don't wanna find my name in your office.
Jump down the fire escape, and contemplate my new name and car.
'Cus I don't hear the jangling bells
or smell the easy money.
Switch back to the part where I asked,
"Why was I tasked like a little errand boy?" Please let's
switch back to the part where you rolled all the dice.
I'm sure that it gave you something to talk about.
But I saw every weakness, knew every answer to
every relevant question.
I don't wanna wake up hot in your coffee.
You got a lot to say, about what I have never been quite sure.
If you switch back to the part where you rolled all the dice,
I'm sure you could dictate quite an anthology.
But I don't hear the jangling bells
or smell the easy money.
I might hear the jangling bells
somewhere dull in the distance --
coming home through the ozone,
a pure tone so persistent.
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8. |
Stop Me
04:37
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God, stop me.
It's in the way that you move,
and in the things that you do.
Makes me believe there's a few
things that maybe I don't know about you.
God, stop me.
Out in the heat of the noon,
here where the road splits in two --
all of these words that you use
might become a little hard to refuse.
God, stop me.
'Cus that day will come.
God, stop me.
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9. |
Building It
04:56
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A wise man had a strong thought --
something to be written down
and passed around.
Been bouncing back and forth 'till now.
It came up in a coffee shop deep downtown.
Wouldn't fit in a suggestion box,
'cus words do
much better when spoken aloud
in a big voice
that feels good to hear
passionately ringing all around.
Building it up from the ground
into a sound
that calls me down the street,
carrying a question mark.
What secret
message can't these echos repeat?
So I turn the next corner and find
a couple dozen voices out
expressing ideas similar to mine.
So I --
I feel good, I feel
right at home contributing my time.
Building it up from the ground
into a sound,
deep and loud,
rumbling in my chest
and making me stronger.
Marching masses,
brass in the air and banners waving,
locked in a steady pulsing tempo.
Powerful footsteps churn and shake the very ground.
One by one by one,
growing even larger now
and raising eyebrows.
You can feel it all around you,
an avalanche is coming down
with force enough
to pound the landscape into
a new place,
where I feel good, because
everything's laid out the way we choose.
Building it up from the ground
into a sound,
deep and loud,
vibrating my skull
and blurring my vision.
Little hazy
mob in the middle of the city,
drunk on the volume of a thousand.
Watch that your weight don't bring your platform crumbling down.
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10. |
Prime
03:27
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I don't wanna fight over it,
I just want a happy, fulfilling life
where pain and strife hide themselves away
and though time goes by, I still find I'm in my prime.
He packed it in a suitcase --
three weeks worth of clothes,
and I just wanna know
the brand of the suitcase
and how he made the folds.
And I don't know if I mind
getting lied to all the time
when white light casts a shadow,
and I've a thousand things
I don't want you to know.
I don't wanna fight over it,
I just want a happy, fulfilling life
where pain and strife hide themselves away
and though time goes by, I still find I'm in my prime.
My heart is like a yellow sponge:
don't leave it to soak,
or it won't let go of
the petty underpromises
puddling on the floor.
Making up for time
lost ironing out a life,
when only for a moment
a funny, nervous feeling
grinds against my bones.
That I don't wanna fight over it,
I just want a happy, fulfilling life
where pain and strife hide themselves away
and though time goes by, I still find I'm in my prime.
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11. |
Lately
04:32
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Smoking like a furnace,
spitting noises,
filling up the room.
Dying of asphyxiation,
trying not to
crack the window.
A smooth dissipation
at a cool elevation
I presume.
I don't know,
I don't care,
fire my waves into the air.
Loving like a liar,
getting jolts
out of a self-prescription.
Shaking off the side-effects
and prepping
for another try.
A warm oasis
harbors forms fat and faceless
on its shores.
I don't know,
I don't care,
send my regards to the people there.
I picked up my pieces this morning. I stood up,
existed for some sixteen hours,
laid down, and disappeared again.
I went to a blurry disorganized landscape.
I kicked around confused and aimless,
woke up, and disappeared again.
And I'm sorry, you were saying something.
You hate the garlic in this food.
And the cold came on too soon.
And your family's fucked up, too.
And it's just not fair that I
never want to take your side.
Now I'm begging you to try
to restrain yourself.
'Cus baby, it's all you ever talk about.
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12. |
Yeah, I'm Trying
03:50
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Let me adjust the thermostat.
It's one or two degrees off I swear.
I got these spinning, restless fingers
that should calm down in temperate air.
I just can't wait here for
one minute more --
too many errands left to run
and monumental works left to be done.
Or maybe I've too much restraint,
and every step I take is in place.
Satisfied to dice up onions
and paint my kitchen cabinets gray.
Do I just keep waiting for
and open door
before I find the urge to move --
to slide along the groove?
Well, I don't know.
But in time,
I don't wanna overthink no more.
Yeah I'm trying.
Can't barely hear you on the phone.
I'm losing every third or fourth word,
but I can keep the conversation going
by echoing the things that I heard.
We could keep stalling 'till
the ocean stills,
just talking up a great big knot
and failing to convey
a single thought.
But in time,
I don't wanna overthink no more.
Yeah I'm trying.
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13. |
Just As Well
03:40
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I didn't heed my own advice.
My mistake.
These ghosts keep biting their thumbs
and turning unseen noses up at you, love,
when you waste an hour or two or three
deciding what takeout to eat: Greek or Chinese.
Well, you slept in past ten,
and now the afternoon's dead,
and the evening's ahead.
So go put on some pants,
'cus you've got plans.
I didn't heed my own advice.
My mistake.
This house has mostly good bones.
In all my work, I try to leave them alone.
But I've found there's a room in every home
you steer your guests away from, keeping it unknown
from family and friends,
because it's not finished yet,
and it's best in your head.
It's hard enough just to stay
all the way awake all day.
If mindfulness takes you
all the left steps,
then failures walk you the rest of the way.
When I fuck up like hell,
it's just as well.
I didn't heed my own advice.
My mistake.
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Cree Sullivan Detroit, Michigan
Bluesy/groovy singer songwriter living in the Detroit area. Book me for gigs: promise I'm vaccinated.
Also check out all the angsty prog rock I released in college.
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