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Small Towns Burn A Little Slower




Small Towns Burn A Little Slower Album


Small Towns Burn A Little Slower (2004)
2004
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The fields have been emptied
The trees are naked weeping for spring
The sun is sleeping longer as last of the green tries on it's winter clothes
The rustle of ever leaf
Whispers summer secrets behind her back
"This is where they walk together this is where she said
She loved him and swore the distance would not break their bond"
Songs of season cling to clay memories
Summer flings fingerprints all over them
Like a grain of sand on a beach of false hope
Swept away into an ocean of everyday life
[spoken part taken from "The Road Less Traveled" by Robert Frost]

. . .


Long for breath on the back of your neck and an arm on your waist
A look of adoration you know is not mistaken or faked
He questions the validity of his life
Hair grows thin as skin grows thick
His eyes convey an emptiness only a lifetime of loss can create
He questions the validity of his life
Hair grows thin as skin grows thick
His money in the bank saving for some days that will never come
Sitting in the chair that has held his body for twenty-some-odd years
He watches re-runs and breaths the same air

. . .


Heads delicately dreaming of the beauty behind shadows
She sings inside the saddest homes
Together we in our hard spring
Lie apart asleep in green country and now I'm on my own
Everything is gone, oh my God
In the gift of a moment we whisper beneath chocolate skies
Water chanting springs symphony of rain
[lyrics comprised of two magnetic poems]

. . .


A phone call
A hospital waiting room
I saw you sleeping never to awake
Could barely recognize you laying lifeless laying still
Churches and hospitals
We look so good in our funeral clothes but none of us want to be here
Why does it take a tragedy to bring us together
Churches and hospitals
The doctors tried

. . .


Passed by a patch of flowers planted to form a cross
But they were dead just like my faith in the shape that they were born in
And I couldn't help but wonder will my faith be restored
Like the color that use to reside in these leaves

. . .


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