The ink is still wet on this one, guys.
I normally have a gap between writing a new song and recording it. It’s not a huge gap, but it’s a few days, waiting for a thursday or an hour or so when the roomie is out of the house so I’m not too disruptive. That’s not a heck of a lot of time to work out the kinks in a new tune, but it is enough to run through it a few times and kind of get a feel for where the most glaring issues are. But, it just happened that today, a Thursday, I finished writing something new that I started maybe 2-3 days ago. (Muse, you are a fickle creature. Some songs, less than a week. Others sit half-finished on my phone for…I don’t even know, they’re half finished, but sufficed to say the number would be in months, not the weeks.)
Anyway, since it’s a Thursday night, I decided to just take my lyrics, hastily placed chords and all, and run with it while I have the chance. The vocal part isn’t as ‘holy crap is she swallowing the mic’ as the last one (sorry about that one. I was actually coming down with the cold from hell at the time and just didn’t have enough wind in me to give those two another go. Since these are all rough recordings I kind of had a total ‘fuck it. I don’t even care.’ moment) but things are still, well, you know, as jimmy-rigged as they usually are.
Delaware
Where the wide river flows
I can feel the soil with my toes
the sunshine takes color from my hair
and when I look to my side you’re there
back then I thought I knew just where I belonged
now I’m not sure I ever knew anything at all
all I really want is to be seen as I am
the way the seasons change
pokes fun at mice and men.
And I remember Delaware
the patched up inner tube
and feet dangling in midair
the views on high that made me
see the world through grown up eyes
and the stories that were told
around that old campfire.
I grew up like a leaf cast to the wind
wherever I end up is the result of where I’ve been.
You can say that time moves quickly
but there’s a place where it stands still
like it’s in a summer rain at the top of a green hill.
Everything you taught me
was learned by smaller hands.
Like how to light a match,
and make an egg, and clean a pan.
And I remember Delaware
the patched up inner tube
and feet dangling in midair
the views on high that made me
see the world through grown up eyes
and the stories that were told
around that old campfire.
Now that everything has changed
now that time’s taken it’s toll
and I’ve learned how to act my age
all these echoes from the past
turn to pit ash and rain
and a lifetime made of starlight
and horizons you can’t tame.
I remember Delaware
oh, I remember Delaware
rolling down a hill with leaves tangled in my hair.
I remember Delaware. Delaware.
