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lyrics

Sometimes its good to say out loud
nothing has happened.
That I feel weary and chilled
is of no consequence.
And that I run about the streets all day
is of my own conscience.

I defend myself although I know its all over
a moment more and everything will have lost its meaning:
the table and the cup and the chair to which I'm clinging.

And mine is the lonely face I thought to raise
inside of some familiar thing for someone I'd once seen
but there was nothing there.

And there will come a day when my hand is far from me.
And when I bid it to write it will write words I don't mean.
When my harp is tuned to mourning and my organ the voice of the weeping.

With a somnambulic certainty I drag my deepest fears.
I childhood illness I had conquered begins in me again.
The fear that I might betray myself and tell you all that I dread.


And mine is the lonely face I thought to raise
and sought for some familiar thing for someone I'd once seen
but there was nothing there.
And if I fall asleep oh the fears, the fears, the fears
that I might swallow a piece of coal or a number might begin to grow in my brain til there's nothing left there.

credits

from Twelve Horse Riding Songs, released March 9, 2011

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Sgt Dunbar & the Hobo Banned Albany, New York

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