1. |
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I dig all the ways that you do your thang,
I get wrapped up in you like tuna do in sashimi
I just want you to be you and I'll be me
We never have to be anyone that we don't want to be
Cause you make me wanna sing,
you make me wanna dance,
you make me wanna play.
You make me wanna move,
you take me by the hand,
we take turns leading the way.
I ain't got much money but you know its okay
cause we don't need no money to chase the bad thoughts away
just put on your guitar, so humble and meek
and we can sing songs in languages we don't even speak
Cause you make me wanna sing,
you make me wanna dance,
you make me wanna play.
You take me by the hand
you make me wanna move,
it gets better every day.
*FAKE ROMANTIC LANGUAGES (NO OFFENSE)*
**APING VU**
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2. |
To Be Young Again
02:06
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I was taking a chance--I am not getting young again--
When I made my hands work to devour the sun again.
It was way too tooth and nail working for a second chance
But the differences that I made
Are forming another plan.
Follow friends to the grave, sing songs for the sake of the armistice.
I've got my own maze and now I gotta stumble out of it
But I slept all the way to the bank
Dreaming up plans for you and me
So I could wrap both of our heads around
How to be young again.
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3. |
Memories
04:08
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4. |
Where The Nights Been
02:49
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The cork hates it when I drink,
It feels so left out, I think
But I always place it on the countertop so gently.
And when I'm done don't I pick it up?
Don't I let it goalie all the cups
that I long for as if they're already empty?
But when I thirst my thoughts get worse,
'is the cork swallowing first what I so dryly neglected on the nightstand?'
I've got the blood, I've got the hands
I've got the stains, I've got the satin
but I just can't keep track of where the nights been.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
Aren't you sorry for anyone else?
You know everyone carries around that weight
and when the cork does settle down
Oh, how it sinks into the crown
with crimson ring and swollen head--so desolate.
And we both share this one last drink,
we're still the last ones up, I think.
Hell, we can't even remember why we're fighting.
We've got the blood, we've got the hands
We've got the stains, we've got the satin
but we just can't keep track of where the nights been.
No, we just can't keep track of where the nights been.
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5. |
The Feeling
03:38
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Can I get you a bag or a cookie with that?
Is there anything else you'd like to take?
Am I singing this right? It kept me up all night
and now I can't seem to stay awake.
I've got the money to make it until the next paycheck,
and the lesson in patience is free.
Pick up the cards that you're dealing
And the onions your peeling
and cry over something real for me.
"They press your head to the floor and call it a ceiling"
but still hang on, Hang on to that feeling
Don't let nothing steal it.
And it isn't magic who people become in traffic,
but it's distracting from something
You start to feel like the only one, or the only important one.
See! That's a problem with your brain.
I wonder who worked that pizza place
in LA with young Tom Waits,
wonder if they're still there today
Serving slice through the heart of Saturday night--
I wish them luck, I wish them all more time...
but I really wish they'd just hang on, hang on, hang on
hang on to that feeling.
That sweet, sweet feeling.
Can't let nobody steal it.
That's the one, you gotta hang on to.
That feeling.
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6. |
Baby Teeth
02:44
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They don't tell you selling out is more innocent than unemployment
They don't tell you getting soft just means living how you want to live
when you do not have to give a shit
Living like you want to live.
Without the self analysis
The spiritual paralysis.
Microscopic memories
dissected into centuries
from the dentures to the baby teeth
The picture framed so perfectly
But they don't call it paying dues when you're in there washing dishes
They only call it paying dues when their hands are holding tickets.
It's easy enough to know what is and isn't a show
Is there something here for sale?
Oh fuck it--let's just go!
Far to some twisted paradise
where even vegans ruin environments
And garbage is inspiring
Common people have no common sense
And every landlord is raising rent
And drugs are strangely sobering
But there ain't no pushers using shit
And the news has no real news in it
And something soon has got to give
And then Baltimore is raised anew
like a forrest after a fire lives.
The saplings nursing
Their mothers ashes.
"Freddie's dead."
Pass the matches.
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7. |
It's Whatever
02:46
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It's sad, it's whatever
They'll never see the two of us together
They'll grow up, they'll come down
They'll sip their drinks through our frowns
They'll learn much and forget much
They'll injure and heal like the rest of us.
They'll ponder our regrets and wonder about their inheritance
What should they know? How should I know?
I've got a song to sing though.
It makes sense, I'll admit
It happens to all of us in some sense
We let go and lose grip or we force these grins and bear it
Its our choice, it's a dare to what is there and what is not there.
What should I know? How could they know?
We've got a song to sing though.
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Cameron Smith Fort Worth, Texas
Cameron Smith is a folk singer and songwriter from Fort Worth, TX
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