1. |
Finite Days
04:24
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Finite days, and even fewer ways to fill them with you. So I'm erasing the dates and hoping time forgets its place. You, draped in amber hue. Who really owns who? We'll tumble down the days at a quickening calendar's pace, but you pin its pages to the wall and hold us where we are. You, draped in amber hue. Who really owns who? Frozen in the cicada haze we spend our days, calla lilies to mark our place from page to page. You, draped in amber hue. Who really owns who?
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2. |
Harding
04:31
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When the wind picked up like it tends to, I was tending to the memories of you like I tend to. And in that pirouette's dizzy backwards spin, I felt your skin, the indention where the wedding band on your hand used to sit. When I feel like it, I'll let go of it. When the wind picked up like it used to, we slipped into the grooves when we resumed like we used to, where we used to. When I feel like it, I'll let go of it. I could have sworn we'd float away.
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3. |
Matter of the Shell
04:01
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Labor at your lacquer when the men from out of town tie up the lines. Ponder prim and proper when your mother pokes and prods at the mind. Recall it all: the demeanor of the shrink at bingo night and how I played the piano. These days I know you like I know me: intimate and then just barely. Question the suggestion that every little thing might not be right when I play piano. These days I know you like I know me: intimate and then just barely. Strange, the matters of the shell.
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