WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN

 

If Memory Serves

 

We left our homes so long ago. So secure we thought wed be, in greener pastures, we invented to secure our selves of a future we could not yet imagine. And so we carry it over the mountains and wind up empty handed. 

We can make our mark but soon be washed away. If our memory serves us we will eat well today. If our hearts provide, there will be hell to pay. 

Leaving has left us so close to alone so we cure ourselves of a plague of making connections, being tied down, invested in staying here long enough to be loved or to love. 

We can make our mark but soon be washed away. If our memory serves us we will eat well today. If our hearts provide, there will be hell to pay. 

 

 

Where Have You Been?

 

Override your lonely hours. Keep in stride with all your followers. Dont you hide what you find solace in. But make up your mind, weve all been wondering. 

Where have you gone? Where have you been?

Oh to find your place in modern times. Traces thrown away, a life youre bound to find. How you do defy a course for everything. But right by your side youve all the maps you need. 

Where have you gone? Where have you been?

I have known the seas youre sailing on. Soft and slow. The only trouble is: where do you go?

Oh drifting is fine, youve all your years in tow. 

Where have you gone? Where have you been?

 

Relentlessness

 

A spider web is the strongest of materials and Ill sit here and eat my breakfast and wonder if theres anything within a certain range of size immune to all thats poisonous. I see a struggle between the worker and the passerby. 

Its understood. Communication will not change this. 

Relentlessness brings a stranger sense of victory than bringing home a meal to me. I wonder if I bring this life to sudden end if rain will really sew the ground 

Back together. Communication will not change this. 

Relentless ness is the strongest of materials and Ill sit here and eat my breakfast and wonder if theres anything within a certain range of size immune to all thats poisonous. I see a struggle between the worker and the passerby. 

Its understood. Communication will not change this. 

 

End of the World

 

I sigh, each day new ways. Cant let the ocean drift away. In morning, two things we say: "good day and farewell" you choose your way.  

I dont know. I dont know where people go. 

Alone, with nothing left. Once more youll improvise and earn your rest. Survivors will re-invent weekends and holidays and malintent. 

I dont know. I dont know where people go.

 

The Days You Would Play

 

All those days that you would play and your mother cried for what you thought she lost inside. You have come so very far, but you move her just the same. 

I would like to hear you play. Play the songs that we would sit and listen to. 

Sad and strong. A borrowed song, that you somehow made your own.

All those ways that your hands would weave her a lullaby. When sleep arrives, your worries die. Simple words weve heard, before you arrived, for she sang to you over and over. 

I would like to hear you play. Play the songs that we would sit and listen to. 

Sad and strong. A borrowed song, that you somehow made your own.

And it goes.....

 

Bye Bye

 

I havent heard a sound since you left this room to find yourself a better mind. Thinkin you werent comin back around, I began to let the dust pile up on all your precious things. Lonely sounds are made in someones absence, but you were never here to hear them, or let em get you down. 

So bye bye. 

Were better off now that certain things are gone. 

All your loves were ghosts from the beginning. You could never quite believe them, or let them stick around. Theyre lookin as if theyre hopin that someone would come around and throw them out. 

And so I say bye bye. 

Were better off now that certain things are gone. 

 

Early Days

 

Theres an old stone fence that leads you through the fields at night, where I found you sittin all alone. You could tell this time things werent the way they should be and I reached down to touch your head. And your face, it said, "Im scared, Im tired and I dont think this will ever change". I dont think this will ever change. 

But you finally remember somethin about the early days. 

Theres a girl you knew, lived down the street from you. You were five. You cried when you realized youd never see here again. Shed probably forget you. And so it goes. Youre back where you started from. Piece by piece your heart will all leave town. 

But you finally remember somethin about the early days. 

 

For Someone Else

 

On a morning, that fell sometime midday, I woke up to the perfect song that could happen to be playin. On a radio, in which room Im not certain, but it filled the space between the walls and nothin was that urgent, now. We tried to undermine the limits of one evening. So little time to drink our hearts and make the most of this meeting. We slide across the floor in someone elses kitchen and we understood a little more of each others position, now. 

Ive been told some things I could not see for myself. Im not sad about them. No. I will save them for someone else. 

Walk a mile to town the distance seems so little. For all the way weve had to come I get a feelin it wont hurt us, more today than when we make our way towards parting, to understand a little more that we will never see the same things again. 

Ive been told some things I could not see for myself. Im not sad about them. No. I will save them for someone else. 

Emptied out in excess, now it all just tastes the same. I should remember after all these times that thered be so much lingerin .On. a bed in a room that had no curtains and we understood a little more of why each of us was hurtin. So much. 

Ive been told some things I could not see for myself. Im not sad about them. No. I will save them for someone else. I will save them for someone else. 

 

Setting Soon

The pictures, all faded, theyre all washed and grey. The paint chips all litter the floor. The roof is caved in where the dog used to lay and new life creeps up through the boards. Slowly erased is the fortune of a man. To be swallowed and sunken below.  

Sunday afternoon. 

The sun will be setting soon. 

Push all the vines back on the shrunken old doorway where we finally found our way in. 

Show me the windows where the warm apple wine sat. Never to grace them again. 

Light wanders in through the windows unscathed. Its a shame I cant do just the same. Careful of footsteps. It seems time somehow weakened this frame. A fortress once stood where these ruins reside. Therell be no more protection here. 

Sunday afternoon. 

The sun will be setting soon. 

Push all the vines back on the shrunken old doorway where we finally found our way in. 

Show me the where your grandfathers dad sat and tasted the sweet afternoon. 

 

Tired Old Man

 

Tired old man. Safe and sound, outside or underground. Do what you can to save tradition. Refuse to let us down. Same old easy chair, empty and without wear. Havent you seen an idle moment? Sometimes I think youre scared. 

Somehow I shouldve known you werent the one to teach me anything bout slowin down. 

Endless pursuit of quality. You told me once if I found it I should hold on. 

I will hold on. 

Tired old eyes, crystal clear. Strong will and thinning hair. Havent you seen an idle moment? Sometimes I think youre scared. 

Somehow I shouldve known you werent the one to teach me anything bout growin old.

 

Underneath Your Breath

 

Dont believe the elevation is the only thing that fills your head with hazy thoughts of this vacation. If we stayed too long wed both be dead. You are sound and I am listening, to find and feel whats mine. 

Underneath your breath I find.

Peace of mind. 

You fix a meal, you couldnt fake it. It might as well be yesterday. Im the one who musta pushed it, when I tried to love you one last time. You are sound and I am listening, but not to what you say.  

Underneath your breath I find.

Peace of mind.

 

Bird Song

 

Theres one more bird left in the yard. Youll find him there with broken arms. And love him with vines instead of yarn. Hell wrestle with your instruments, so shiny and new, and hell show you youve no idea what to do. 

Stop foolin around with your placement.

Stop foolin around in your basement. 

The final site he shoulda known, you replaced it with flourescent glow, and a window to frame a place he would call home. The ground that waits for him to fall will settle now for nothing at all. And the wind blows to fill your sails and guide you home. 

Stop foolin around in your basement. 

Stop foolin around with your placement.

Like a painting you found in your basement. 

 

NEWALBUM

 

​FUNKYBAND

 

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