about
lyrics
Hearing The Fall. Back to the patio. Summer days spent chasing the wind and the rain. Oysters and candy down at the docks. Look over and see the men at the pub crouched over their beers and glasses of small amounts of whisky so as not to offend. Giving their children the best they can, they stumble out and down to shipyard. Looking up at the sky, way down below at the ground. Digging up dirt, burying their heads below the earth. Clashing with their wives’ friends over small matters of lifestyle, class, expectations, duty, obligation, etiquette, protocol. Being genuine by not thinking for even a moment in an entire lifetime. Not blaming it on their absent fathers. Chasing down the alcohol with chilled beer and coming home to chug a glass of good city tap water.
They took the normal amount of time to write the daily material. It was only at the sound of a car radio on the street outside that they stopped thinking. That was when the real work flowed. They’d stopped and detached. Forgotten identity and ego, mission statements and even all ideas. Out the brain, drained completely. Only the real stuff now. Bringing down the houses and turning ash to dust. Brushing aside the sediment. Making room for advanced society and letting their hairs down and bellies out.
Give me the voice of a thousand soldiers
Oh, darling, what I’d do just to hold ya
Burning books isn’t beneath me
Now that I know how sweet defeat could be
Give me the voice of a thousand soldiers
Oh, darling, what I’d do just to hold ya
Burning books isn’t beneath me
Now that I know how sweet defeat could be
credits
from
Literati,
track released June 28, 2022
Written, produced, and mixed by Jake Triola
Artwork by Sydney Shadeck
license
all rights reserved
