On the road
From here to Memphis.
I grow cold. I grow sick.
Should I tell you
What I really think,
About children and small town dreams?
I don’t want to waste your sacred time,
But feel free to do whatever you please with mine.
The fire’s blazing,
But the water is rising.
And I hope we burn this forest before we start compromising.
Well the road,
From home to Memphis
Is all too slow, is all too dead.
I don’t want to drift out of line,
But the light is dim and I’m surely going blind.
That oasis better be looming up ahead,
With my girl and heart safely stored within.
Oh City, save us,
From the miserable country.
It’s arid and it’s windy with all its store-bought fantasies.
It’s just a fantasy.
I’m on the road,
From hell to Memphis.
And when I’m here, I don’t exist.
Well I know you’re set in stone,
But I’m the one that’s set to erode.
It’s all too perfect to break the silence.
Truth is of a lesser sort than kindness.
My heart’s on fire,
But I’m buried in the future.
I’m most alive when I’m nothing but a suitor.
Here’s to hoping I won’t always be a commuter.
6 hours away from good health.
6 hours away from myself.
credits
from Chess With HAL,
released August 17, 2016
Alex Dobson - guitars, handclaps
Clay Graham - vocals, guitars, handclaps
Jordan Puckett - handclaps
Seth Short - drums
Austin Warren - bass
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