Such an enjoyable song to write to. Mad props to Evan on this one, he put many hours into the instrumentation which in this case really inspired the writing. This song is diverse in it's parts... it kind felt like I was writing 4 different mini-songs. Enjoy.
Title: Valentines Day in D
Contributions: Sir Westre on instrumentation.
Theres a small table thats sun bleached and waiting,
at the heart of a city that we know nothing about.
Surrounded by strangers all speaking in colors,
we could learn to paint with the words that dance out of our mouths.
Its hard to say, what were looking for.
There's a young boy at the corner of this and that street,
abandoned by the world that stops to give names to such things.
And if we had a compass, a map, and all the time in the world,
only a guess would bring us to those nameless streets.
Its so hard to say how we'll find, what were looking for.
There's a lonely train thats been looking beyond its own track,
but its feet wont budge beyond the rails and ties,
He sure as hell wont go on, he sure as hell wont go back,
so he just stands and stares beneath the baritone sky.
Its hard to say, anything at all.
We may move like mean it,
Do not let the circus see.
The clowns no longer amuse me,
The lion is beggingto be free.
And we may search the house of mirrors,
For that open window dream,
But when you opened your eyes love,
Thats when I felt the breeze.
Back me into corners now the bird in me is burdened now.
Burdened like the betting man who's betting hand is bourbon bound.
Cant believe in burdens when its gravity that gets me down,
It... aint... pass... ing... through, the circus is the town.
I suppose im crazy I suppose that this is solid ground,
Om mane padme let me lose all that I thought I found.
Oh mommy poppy, taught me how to paint a dismal town,
Flood the streets with red until each shred of grey is underground.
Keep to the script boy keep it on auto pile-it-high with a bow on the peak,
Back in the woods where the gods and the dreams retire for a night of hide and seek.
Seeked for the fifth time this week this time something split inside of me-
This world aint built for the curious or I aint built for curiosity.
Even as I write that, right there, right now Im getting called out by the God in me,
Dont write it just cause it sounds dope who you trying to impress with your polished speak?
Truth is not the end truth is not the...
I dont know much, in fact all that I know,
is more of a hunch I just guess as I go,
We could point at the ground and call it high or low,
Whatever serves our feet dancing.
If I had to guess I would guess its all here,
Crowded with beauty thats shrouded in fear,
But theres something bout running the same race for years,
It doesnt serve our feet dancing.
Its so hard to say when its time,
To leap off the edge of what keeps me confined,
And maybe tomorrow I'll feel more inclined,
But now, now will be fine.