1. |
Appalachia Bound
06:46
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It's comforting to see that adolescent glow on the horizon, because it means I should be rising soon, and gettin' on out the door. I've had my foot stuck in it and a hard time with it, baby. Did you think that maybe I could deserve something more? But no, I gave it up for you and all you could think to do was burn me, but that just turned me back towards where I want to be found. So you can keep our friends and all our memories because I won't need them where I'll be then; I'm Appalachia bound.
It's comforting knowing where I go I'll be growing, and you'll be here, doing the same shit. You're so proud of it. I tried my best, goddamn, I tried my best, but it was fruitless. Makes me feel so fucking useless, and don't you all know it. And it seems like these days everyone has got a little country in them, but I ain't buyin' it, not now and I never will. Because I'm from these hills, and they cradle me like a newborn baby, and again when I am in my grave. 'Til then, I'm Appalachia bound.
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2. |
Playlist
05:07
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Why, why did you have to leave? A bottle of wine down, your hips up against mine, your lips up against mine. Tell me why...
You don't have a tapedeck, and all I got is a list of songs; songs that could say everything to drive you straight into my arms. Everything I need to say has already been sung, by men and women, boys and girls, trainwrecking straight into guitars.
Why, why did you have to leave? A bottle of wine down, your hips up against mine, your lips up against mine. Tell me why...
Your dress is tight against your chest, your head is heaving on my breast. Your beautiful eyes are finally getting rid of all those tears that we never had the guts to shed. And now all I got left is your smell on my clothes, an ashtray full of cigarettes. It's 3 am again, here I am again.
Why, why did you have to leave? A bottle of wine down, your hips up against mine, your lips up against mine. Tell me why...
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3. |
Farmer
05:57
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I used to daydream about hammering train tracks through the sky, as that summer sun baked leather on our backs. I'd squint my eyes into that nuclear blue and watch the afternoon roar by, and I pray that there's a boxfan in the window when I die.
We busted our knuckles, and we left our fingerprints in blood, and in mud, on limestone and implements. Sweat bees stung our skin, and sweat stung our eyes, and I pray that there's a boxfan in the window when I die.
I've learned so much about myself, but that don't change the decisions I've made. My father is my barometer, and I pray that he don't cave. For his defeat would be my defeat, and his ruin my own. I can never fall too far knowing what's at the end of old Slate Road.
I've woken up shaking on all them bathroom floors. I didn't think I'd make it through this summer, but I got back up for more. I can't bring myself to throw away these things that I don't need, like chicken shit and tablescraps. I've always got some demons to feed.
But now my back's just as bad, and my heart's just as sore, and I don't know if I wanna be a farmer anymore.
I want to say so many things to you, but so many ears would hear. And they'd all believe it meant for them alone, so may I make it clear. This is no longer for anyone but myself and myself alone, cuz if I don't start wisin' up, I'll never make it home. I'll keep my head down while I'm tilling and tending rows. I'm humbled, but not broken. I'm reaping what I've sown. On the road to Damascus, AR I'll pull the scales from my eyes. And I pray that there's a boxfan in the window when I die.
Yeah, I pray that there's a boxfan in the window when I die.
I just want to spend my days like dreams, but if I keep carryin' on, then there's no hope for me.
But now my back's just as bad, and my heart's just as sore, and I don't know if I wanna be a farmer anymore.
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4. |
Thanksgiving
04:47
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Everyone knows that it's coming, but no one expects it so soon. We came together like firecrackers, and faded like the light of the moon. And I'm growing to hate November; watched you leave with my eyes on your hips. And I myself, beside myself, went down with all your sunken ships.
And maybe someday the stars'll shine through these clouds, and maybe then you will understand "Saturn's hammers ringing through the Rockies, and forging a boy to a man".
And it's so so sad that this came to be, so I'm doing what I feel best to do. I've swallowed my pride, now I'm fueled by resentment, and I'm walking due East from you.
Don't think for a moment that I'll forget your face, or that I will forgive you with time. And if I don't saying nothing, it's better than what I'm thinking. Sometimes assholes don't know how to say goodbye.
Goodbye.
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5. |
We Have No Drugs
02:34
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We have no drugs. What's there to do?
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6. |
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New Madrid, MO Springfield, Missouri
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