Nashville, TN United States
information@puffinrecords.com
“So Now!Coming Out Of The Languid WaterShimmering From Brightness OfThe American NightThere, Over There!Alive The CityBut Wait It’s Far Away...Walking Distant Days,Driving Distant HoursIt Is Alive ThoughIt’s Said To Be SoAlive In The Mute Aliveness Of Being AliveLike A Good Muffled Kick Drum... Ah! MusicThat’s One Of The Reason WhyWhy The City Alive Does There Lie In Lye”Don’t Lie To Me.”Say’s The Dirty Scoundrel Who Aches All DayTaking Away My Thoughts To Be Placed In Abstract Morality Based,Dry With Clink Stains,DryDry As A Bone / How Mutely Solemn It Is To Grow Up ThereThe Only Thing Bringing WaterBeing Your Flaming Tongue, With Words Of Existentialism”Here Try This...””What Is It, Peyote?””It Is Indeed,” Says The Coyote””Ah! Everything Now Much, Much More Dryer”Oh No That Won’t Do,And Away I WalkLike A Battered Angel (Aren’t We All)Escaping From The WarIINow I’m Out Alone In The Moonlit NightAfter Seeing The City...Alive I Tell Ya!It Ain’t So Groovy Though, When You’re In ItDrowning In The Selfish DayAh Again! Away!Eagle Bearing Sorrows But I Think”So! It’s A Beautiful Bird. Take Me Away Oh Fare Hawk.”IIINow Lying In A Gutter Beside An Outskirt RoadHigh Stalks Of Weed’s All AroundTo My Left Out Of The Gutter,High Straws And Above A Starless Night...Why? Because To My Right Across The HighwayAcross More Weeds And Stalks Of Brown Floral,A... A...An Airport In Its Selfless MutinyBright Lights Lighting Up, Oh I’d Say At About...200 Yards Away The Whole Of It Infamously StandsRather Than Wonder Who I Am Or Where I Am-Like All Occurrences During Night And DayI Travel On Foot, Leave My Car Parked Behind MeSeems As I’d Taken A Nap,Although You Can’t Really Be Sure In A Place Like This”Where Am I”? I SayThen, Looking At My Shoes, Say “Just Kidding”, And Walk OnCrossing The HighwayFor Now Completely Absorbed In The MomentIVIt Seems Like I’ve Had This Dream BeforeBut Don’t It AlwaysWalking Now Through Lugubrious Fields Of Brown Tall GrassAnd Gravel,I Come To The Concrete RunwayClouds, Many Clouds, Must Be The Reason For No Stars... I Think.So I Get Back To My Car In What Seemed Like A Shudder Of A Millionth,Billionth Of A SecondTick-Clocking, Tick-Tocking It’s Way Closer To A SecondAnd What It Calls An InfinityReally Being Less Than A Minute...Much Like Us Waiting For Death”Death In Time My Son”The Grandfather Clock GraonsAh! Draw The Curtain! I’m Getting Out,Look Outside...It’s The American NightMaestro! Some Jazz...”