Well, I managed to get through the entire thing (with plenty of eff ups, but through it all) last night at 3 something in the morning. Knowing we were going to have people showing up at our door at noon, and I still had to clean up a bit before they got here, I have no idea why I keep doing this to myself, but at around 12:30 AM I was like ‘well, I’ll spend a few minutes with the guitar before bed’.

…clearly, my definition of ‘a few minutes with the guitar’ needs work.

The song does, too, but I managed to pull together a first, rough recording (cell phone only this time, I couldn’t be fucked about mics in the middle of the night, but it actually worked out surprisingly well-balanced for all my laziness), which feels like progress even though I messed it up quite a bit. The point is, for the moment, that I got all the way through it, even though I need to figure out what’s causing the fatigue in the base of the thumb on my fretting hand (current suspicion is that it has to do with the fact I’m muting the top string with said thumb for the entire song, which is causing me to work with muscles in my forearm that don’t normally work in quite that way for quite this extended a stretch of time.).  So a lot of practice still has to go into this. I messed up the guitar in several areas. I messed up the vocal in more areas than I care to admit, too.

But, I have a rough recording of the tune that’s at least together enough to show you what I’ve been up to while I’ve been somewhat lost in the radio silence while my throat was recovering. (Yes, allergies still have me hacking periodically throughout the day, but my voice at least no longer sounds like an angry toad on sandpaper, so I’m counting it as a victory.)

Imaginary

Leave me where I stand

I’m imaginary

We’re only playing parts

I know, it’s suffocating.

 

If all we are is broken wings

and memories of living things

how can we find a little peace

when we’re just simple souls on lease.

 

O-ooh, tomorrow.

Maybe we can start again

act like all the strings and the little things

can fall away as we pretend

that masks are made so paper-thin

that you can see the state I’m in.

 

Leave me where I stand

I’m imaginary.

You clipped my wings, wouldn’t let me sing

and still called yourself a friend.

Now I’m so understated

broken-hearted, under-rated,

only an echo of who I would have been

if I’d left before you locked me in.

 

If all we are is broken wings

and memories of living things

how can we find a little peace

when we’re in the belly of the beast.

 

And I don’t want to hold your hand

I just want to understand

how somehow everything I’ve been

seems to end where you begin.

it’s like a tale I never told

that doesn’t start until I’m old

I’m at the gates and tripping in

I’ll see you when we meet again

and I’ll say,

Leave me where I stand

the things you planted in my head

I’ve since shrugged off and left for dead.

I’m not the person that you wanted me to be

but I imagined you as much as you imagined me

so let’s agree to stay our separate ways,

admit we’re living in

the better days.

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