Very rough recording of another new song. I’ve had trouble getting a decent recording since I started using a pick. I’ll figure it out eventually, but in the meanwhile, I’ve used audacity to make it a little less ear-splitting than the last go.

This one came out of a conversation with my friends on facebook. I was complaining that I lost another silicone earbud cover (seriously, I lose them chronically. I lost two within the last two weeks.), and that led me to challenging them to tell me things they always lose, to try to inspire me to write a new thing. Some of the answers I got were “glasses”, “hairbrush”, “bets”, and “my mind”. Obviously, I had to fluff it out a little from that, but I did try to nod at least to all of them. One of my buddies mentioned a vortex eating lost things (or something of the sort), so I weaseled the word “vortex” in there, too.

I thought I’d end up turning it into a funny song. I feel overdue for a funny song, but it ended up being some sort of hillbilly sounding thing. Not sure if this would be a country tune, or just, you know a folk tune that REALLY means it. lol. Either way, it’s a thing that exists.

I’ve had a pretty productive month so far, actually. I’ve released a poetry album, written 2 or 3 songs. Took a fricking ton of pictures I still need to get off my camera and up here.  The muse is feeling productive, apparently.

(EDIT: replaced original recording with one at a slightly better quality)

Lost & Found

You could lose the same raffle 99 times

and I could lose this headache

if I could find some pills or wine.

Belting across the house won’t make that

phone ring louder.

How do you misplace the lines of aging grace

that we hide like a life can be erased.

 

I’d lose my mind if you placed that bet

because everything we cast away

is half of all we get.

One day, we’ll be old ladies with tangled hair

and old men with tin foil hats.

We’ll squint our eyes to hear all the songs

we can’t forget

until everything we’ve left behind fills

a vortex with regret.

But we aren’t there yet.

 

We’re all made of lost faith and chewing gum

the glasses you left on the restaurant bar

the songs we can’t hear without stuff in our ears

with sun bright in our eyes, time gathers like flies.

You can’t power a life that’s gone up in smoke

without light bulbs, or batteries,

or a spare bit of hope.

You’ve got to make peace with a lot of lost socks

with memories that plunk like they’ve

dropped off the docks

but there’s a precious cargo that time won’t forget

it etches a map from forehead to toes

that reads ‘wherever we falter, another road grows’.

 

We’re all made of lost faith and chewing gum

the glasses you left on the restaurant bar

the songs we can’t hear without stuff in our ears

with sun bright in our eyes, time gathers like flies.

 

You can live half a life full of things lost in the rush

and at the end of it all, still have enough.

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