U cudn’t be farther away,
Crooked dirt road to a pine-hiden pond,
Tumbl-down manse and a haunted show-hous,
And we so smal in the fogy green fields,
Ther to share in the wonder of our failings.
In any hale and harty clan
Ther’s the smilers and the scowlers,
The makers and the mokers,
The hopeful and the hateful,
But we wur not so eazily saved from ourselvs.
So u who crave evrything
That evrybody craves,
Take my word is won’t be yurz
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.
Our life was in the theater,
Experts only in contention,
Playing at parts to decifer our dreams,
Lafing thru the teribl tears,
Uneasy save the abandon of our drama.
The days of luv wur over then,
Dizeze had struk the lulaby girl,
Poverty crakt the actor’s back,
Envy sourd the wine of words,
Yet ded not our drive to invent a nu desir.
So u who say evrything
That evrybody says,
Take my word it won’t be herd
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.
We staged our circus round the fire,
Poems that praizd the age stood stil,
Songs confuzed at being sung,
Tales to twist the father tung,
Beneath a moon ablaze with our shimering sadnes.
Our spirits rouzd up wild and hi,
Sum with the mystical sewaj,
Sum with calin the beter bad,
Sum with rebilding tomoro,
But u can’t forget the very thing u try to.
So u who make evrything
That evrybody makes,
Take my word it won’t endur
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.
Our nites went late in joy subdued,
Recalling what never happend,
Arguing over great nothings,
Misdrawing the constelations,
It was comon almost to a strange submission.
In history each was diferent,
Those of elite institutions,
Those of unguided ambitions,
Those of absurd fabrications,
Al bound by the passion for a more perfect freedom.
So u who play evrything
That evrybody plays,
Take my word they won’t aplaud
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.
Wetherd wur our wide betrayals,
Our mission branded futile,
Our exploits shamed as facile,
Productions infantile,
By those for whom progression’s proved in wrecking.
So wut are words realy worth
Wen no un dares remember ther fears,
Composur is a slopy ly,
Extinction sleeps with ecstasy,
Save as signs to show we are suficiently lost.
And u who hate evrything
That evrybody hates,
Take my word it’s al u’l hav
Wen u’re lonely in ur grave.
It was just another inverse retreat,
From the charity of our critics,
The colaboration of the cynics,
The jobs that pay in det and dout,
But the batl rages alone to uproot the coward.
Our victory is our memory,
How we grew less eager for fame,
Beleved a day in our deceits,
Held and yeld, rebeld and fareweld
Til next agen we run away to our trubls.
So u who say evrything
That no un ever says,
Take my word it wil be herd
Wen u’r livin in ur grave.
The Good Hard is playwright, poet, and musician Kirk Wood Bromley's band featuring players and producers in NYC and Arizona. Email the "Contact The Good Hard" link below if you wanna talk.
An earthy amalgam of American Primitive, spiritual jazz, and drone from this Seattle group is full of orbiting melodies and forest vibes. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 26, 2023
In songs that swing from giant and anthemic to distortion-caked and widescreen, Lightning Cult conjure galaxies of sound. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 18, 2022
Experimental rock from a duo of Native visual artists and musicians transforms indigenous trauma into indigenous power. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 18, 2017
The latest from Wren Kitz, on the always-great NNA Tapes, is a study in minimalism, with barely-there guitars and hushed vocals. Bandcamp New & Notable May 4, 2017
Ben Chasny's spellbinding guitar work is as always at the center of his rhythmic, meditative psych-folk. This one sparkles. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 8, 2017
Rundgren-esque rock with big hooks and a hint of the baroque, recommended for fans of Jon Brion and post-Kill Rock Stars Elliott Smith. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 20, 2024