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1.
The days are slow and lengthening now that March has run its course. Life picks the whip up and it beats a bleeding house. The wood in the neck of all of these guitars bends and cracks with the heat and the cold, just like a change in seasons can break a man's soul. I'd sell mine to the devil, if I believed that I had one, for a life of chasing tall tales like a bandit on the run and afterwards I'd spend forever eating fire. But my prayers come back empty, maybe I'm not blessed. I'll just lay my head back and I'll try to get some rest. I once had a friend that I dearly loved, but the vultures swooped and drank all of his blood. Then a hawk with red wings carried him away. I felt those same talons in my back; they lifted me up without a single scratch. Now I'm broke like a record and tearing holes in my shoes but after a few I can't tell Red from Blue. My gaslight stays on burning like the North Star. I follow it home every single time but the needle is laying down looking like it's going to die. Now we don't see unless it's through a cloud of smoke. Pour some poison on my tongue. It's a cigarette vigil to when we were fast and young. Now we won't dance unless the powder is pure. The more whiskey the more fun. Someday we'll figure this out but for now let's just run. The day's are slow and lengthening now that March has run its course. Life picks the whip up and it beats a bleeding horse.
2.
Faded 04:12
The tile is cool on my flushed face as I sit up from the floor and I take a look at my reflection. He says to me, "You can draw that compass on your arm but it won't give you directions." I saw a shooting star but I couldn't make a wish. My words melted away like the ice in my drink. I know the way these things work and things are getting worse. You went off to school and found the living was hard and with those morals, that's just cruel. So we smashed them all out on the sidewalk and drank to our health. Then you turned and walked back to the house because the girls wanted to talk. Because you fell in love with Molly, but kissed Lucy in the pool. Her eyes were changing shape like the face of the moon. I know the way these things work and things are getting worse. I was strung out in the back of a pick-up truck, there was a sign that read, "When it rains, it pours." No matter how twisted or lost we get, it's only my brain decoding a spore. And I could outrun the storm but I don't want to be dry. No, not for now, at least not tonight...
3.
Alexander 06:17
Alexander woke on his twelfth birthday with a stomach full of angry nerves. He went barefoot down the wooden stairs as it began to burn. He suffered through breakfast; his mother looked concerned. He stepped outside for some fresh air, still his insides tossed and turned. But June was hot, the sun was high. He went looking for some shade. He turned his back on the cul-de-sac where all the children played. Alexander walked to the foot of a mountain that was great and tall. He started up the path and tied his shoes so that he wouldn't fall. The pain in his stomach reduced him to crawl. "Don't give up my eager son," the mountain seemed to call. The pain was great, the woods were thick. All sight of sky was gone. Curiosity and determination pushed him to go on. Somewhere in a cave the artist cries. Somewhere far beyond the Starry Nights, the painter dies. And the doctors say his heart just stopped but we know the cause of death - writer's block. Alexander reached the rocky peak. His face was wet, he wiped the sweat from his forehead as the stinging rose from his stomach to his neck. He lost his lunch way up there got as sick as you can get. But when his mouth opened out came colors like a painter's palette. His eyes wide, he stepped back and admired what he had done. The colors mixed before his feet, looked like a setting sun. Astonished with his new-found skill, he returned even in the white snow. But he turned eighteen and got a scholarship to a school far from his home. He took one last look at his master piece and, thinking of van Gogh, he shipped himself down Highway 1 to San Francisco. Times were hard and friends were few, his inspiration gone. He spent his days holed up in his room, everything felt wrong. But then one foggy morning things changed. He woke to find his stomach felt the same like all those older days. Then, he breathed in deep, held it in, and jumped out the window. He floated away above the factory smoke and exploded as the fog finally broke.
4.
One last look at the seawall, as the highway carries me away. I'll try to get home safely to lay with you. One more week in the trenches; my boots are filled with rain again and the ride home is looking longer now. She's been having dreams again of the ICU and the magazines in the waiting room; they remind me there's a hole in the sky where the light gets in and it's burning the mountains. There's a room in the house where the light gets in and in the morning it wakes me up. I've been having dreams again of the hospital - the cheap white lights, the gurneys, and the gowns. They remind me there's a hole in my eye where the light gets in and it's learning your body. There's a room in the house where the light gets in and in the morning it wakes me up. Remember the nights on the fences? I was drunk but you were something sobering and the ride home is looking longer now...
5.
The Hunt 03:53

credits

released September 24, 2013

Andrew Gunderlock - drums
Mike Cherubino - guitars, voice
Ryan Beacher - bass guitar
Sean Bramley - voice, guitars, keys

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The Cranberry Isles West Chester, Pennsylvania

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