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lyrics

i was woken up on sunday by the bells that had been rung
inside of my head there's no other type of life for this one
underneath my shuttered eyelids was what has been and will come
though part of the globe's exposed to dry makes due to use what is in front

you've been touching my face and though i appreciate the grace
it takes a little more than that to make this mistake
and every dark day i get locked into the grave so late
well at least it fades if i don't fan the flames


I don't own any records
except akashic efforts
I etched them with temper anew

I don't know about you
I just know about me
I was never so free as in fugue


well whatever whatever i thank my good god i'm so clever
as to weather this endeavor with aplomb
were i actually better i'd never forget to measure
the sunken treasure of my short life against the bomb

got a windmill strapped to my back biking as fast as i can
can you understand the fever that keeps my feet in a trance
the dead bartender tips himself revels in a lended help
returns it with a dent and sets his casket on the shelf


I don't own any records
except akashic efforts
I etched them with temper anew

I won't know about me
I'll just know about you
save for me a bit of the view


i don't love you all but i do love
i was stuck in a rut with my gun
slid into a balloon away i'd thought it had spun
it must have been more than a ruse

credits

from Plea Bargain, released July 31, 2017
spencer nyarady: violin, lyrics, vocals
evan hardenburger: piano, organ, vocals, production

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John Muir Orchestra Berkeley, California

Duo

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