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All at once, we saw so little we could hide, we decided to face the truth.
All for naught, but not for lack of trying or denying self-inflicted psychological abuse,
And we had our fun for so long it stung to ponder the prospect of other possibilities,
So please obey the breeze and go where the wind blows...
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2. |
Out With the Shut-ins
01:57
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"There's something about you";
"I'm nothing without you";
And other such platitudes will never change your attitude toward me.
I've worked it out with the shut-ins
And kept up with the Jonses,
But I'm not about to shout out or pretend to be proud about some things I have done...
I'd be a liar to say that I wouldn't give you a chance again today,
Against my better judgment.
I gravitate toward this state every time.
But there ain't no fate; no life one cannot define.
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3. |
Like the Literati
03:59
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I'm reading up and writing down all about how we came to become what you and I would find to be pleasant to the touch and the feel of warmth surrounds a crown of bells and whistles, lights and leisure, lots of free parking and a pleasant walk to your destination.
And past that you must waddle through a quagmire of formal attire; are you tired of spinning wheels and grinning despite your understated over-achievement, your rent is due and time flew too fast to find the stop where you should have dropped what used to be what you used to be.
I'm reading up and writing down all about how we came to become what you and I would find to be pleasant to the touch and the feel of warmth surrounds a crown of bells and whistles; carry yourself like the literati; hold your pen like you mean it cos there ain't no one to tell you that you might be better off any other way...
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We've only got so many bones, and they've been all picked clean
Of any memory of flesh or sinew, feeling, or belief in anything.
We will ask nothing of you; our bones will be enough to feed you.
We're brittle, broken, beaten down, ground soundly into dust.
Though thus relieved of hope and trust, we'll muster up the will to carry on.
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5. |
My Healing Heart
02:53
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Can you reduce the noise?
I find it hard to celebrate
When I ain't got no choice.
I'd rather sleep than stay up late again.
But it fills my healing heart to know that we will rise
And greet another day
A little longer than was yesterday.
But these days, they grow too slow
To overcome the undertow
That keeps me standing still
And staring into space.
Be still, my healing heart.
We will remain alone,
And feel so far away
For at least another day.
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The Fig Mints (of Your Imagination) Utica, New York
The Fig Mints is some guy named Bobby Rogan. When not playing songs written by someone else, he prefers to write his own for what it’s worth, and has recorded nine albums and two EPs of (mostly) original material inspired by youthful indiscretion; severe anxiety attacks; heavy drinking; and of course, girls. Sprinkle a little self-loathing in there, and you get what you hear. ... more
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