1. |
Real Life Human Being
03:40
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I just want to sell you my soul now, but you’re not sure that I exist. And I just want to let you take my freedoms now, but you’re not convinced that I’m good enough for it. I cleaned you out about when I cleaned out my life. The only difference now it seems is I sleep alone at night. And I will be as I have always been. If property is being then who’s to say existence is a sin?
I want to be a real life human being. I want to be a light in the dark. But existence is money and honey I can’t take part.
Today a kid got shot in South Chicago and another one, he became a man. And I will never relate to that but I wonder what it’s like to understand. I wonder what it’s like to feel alive. Having nothing doesn’t mean that nothing has me. I may not exist but I’ve got a whole lot less to fear.
I want to be a real life human being. I want to be a light in the dark. But existence is money and honey I can’t take part. I am nothing more than the sum, of my possessions and I’m not the only one. You are all nothing more than the sum of what you own and kid you don’t own nearly enough.
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2. |
Keep Your Fear
02:54
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Sit statuesque on the edge of the bed. Cold blue morning coming over your head. Arch bare back set me thinking on love. So tie your hair back and tell me what you’re scared of.
Reach to the other side. Where all is beautiful and nothing hurts. Sell it to the bottom line: love everything and nothing hurts. No I won’t let you take my hate and I’d like to keep my fear. It’s the hurt that keeps me human. It’s the fear that lets me hear.
What’s between all the optimists and I. What money can and what it cannot buy. Elastic faith in face of your staggered monsters known to your fleeting fantasy, sliding down and sold to the man across the river. Push his boat with an addict stick. No the drugs won’t make you special, apathetic, shuddering sick. And I cannot be found comfortably numb. No comfort in the death of me, nor shantih shantih shantih out and done.
All the sounds in the spaces in between, from the lines on your palm up onto the silver screen. Battling hands in the dark look for a sign. No giving up is not a choice, no giving in won’t help you see the light
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3. |
Can't Take It With You
03:50
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The river it won’t stop running, running up behind these eyes. I’ve got to get away, be still, would that you would strike me blind. I know it’s not my time to go but the river it drags on me. Getting dark for a few short seconds, it’s dark, too dark to see.
I’ve been walking for far too long but my color it’s changed these days. I’ve got to get out, not without, but gone, we’ll tell our stories in the smoke morning haze. Cold clean air over parts unknown. New shades of summer and high swept roads. I've got to get out, I believe I done my time. Got to go and find something I can take with me when I die.
Drive out to the highway once a week. Wonder what it means to disappear. I will see you every night. You don’t know, no not all of me is here.
Out on the edge of town staring west. Think on all the things I could leave behind. The river, oh it’s rising, leave the rest. I know, I know, no I will bide my time.
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4. |
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There is comfort to be found in the basic actions of a man. An empty act to be sure, but at least my feet touch land. There’s a word without meaning. I thought that once I knew a man. But in that heart I have seen, he is an animal, another one like me.
Hypocrites. All of us are hypocrites. Possession when it suits me, absolution when it fits. Can I expect that much from you, no I don’t think that I can. I have been an animal, but it’s love makes me a man.
What am I doing here with another girl that walks like she’s not all put together? Whatever happened to grace and beauty? Just another one that walks like four horsemen of a feather.
And a year ago today I might have said “go out and have your fun, get rocked down to your bones” because no matter who you are, or what it is you do, you and everyone you know, we all must die alone.
I ‘m not saying that I’m dishonest. I’m just human to a fault. I have been a king and I have been a monster. But now I am a man and I've got all I ever wanted.
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5. |
It'd Be Nice
02:43
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Lately it seems that I say “I love you” like a test and not a testament of things which are still to be. And oh I ‘ve got nothing from you, but I’m not yet notching up my belt. It’d be nice to know that you still feel. It’d be nice to know that you still felt.
Anything, something, or nothing at all. Where is your heart now darling? Is it anywhere at all?
I’m left holding air now. Sent back to the great whit e north with nothing but my guitar and my own sense of self-worth. And oh, it might sound hard now, but I've got news for you, kid. Six strings hold me together better than you ever did.
Anything, something, or nothing at all. I don’t need you anymore. I’ve got a long long ways
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6. |
Sons
02:41
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There is a chosen time and place and have you realized this one’s wrong. Your mind and hands at the shoreline now and gone. In a land drawn over sleeping guns, no I won’t be the only son.
Reached up to touch at the face of God. And I fucked up again at all that I been taught. I went looking for a ceiling and just kept coming up through the floor. No I won’t be the only one and I won’t own my own fate or yours.
And I reached up, straight into the face of truth from out of these unfamiliar twisted roots. No I am not, no I am not quite resolute within theses, oh, these shades of grey you’ve shaken loose.
I have no tools close at hand but these ordinary words, far too plain to be heard. But what it is you’re hoping for, no I can promise it will not occur. Because I refuse to be the only one. And I refuse to be the only son.
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7. |
Ten Minutes
03:34
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It’s much easier to fall in love with a stranger than a person. A thousand words are lost to a picture and volumes to a conversation and I, I would set pen to paper and keep you in stasis. And I, I would sketch me a portrait, but I know that I would not do you justice.
Maybe, just maybe, John, he was right after all. The Baptist or the Beatle, the poet or the evangelist. And by this time of year, my dear, I ‘m not sure it matters which is which.
I don’t have the ambition to capture all that I have seen. I ‘m not an artist, dear I’m a writer, and I’m sorry for the words you’ll read. Strangers are easier to love than people, like you’ll vote for death you will never see. The first stone, it is one light load when it’s aimed at a man you will never meet.
And I don’t mean to preach at you, but maybe, just maybe, love is all that we need. It’s such a goddamn cliché, but by this time of year it’s one I’m glad to see.
It’s much easier to fall in love with a stranger than a person. A thousand words lost to a picture and volumes to a conversation ten minutes long, a secret smile in the dark. I could write forever, but I’ll leave it at a shared cigarette and a spark.
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8. |
West
04:05
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Go West, young man, if you can afford those nicotine dreams. You think I’m fucking around, and if I’m honest, it’s occurred to me. But who is there to be the wiser I promise you no one will see a face grown to the mask. And if I’m honest: I just might be.
But I can tell you it’s never been me. I’ve been living so temporary and baby, it’s not half bad. Leave no trace, what was yours, you never had.
You paint the sky a darker shade of sunset than any I’ve seen before. Stake to your claims away, spheres within spheres to give up more. Beyond this mountain’s mighty reach and out on your shifting sands, there is a forest that never is still. And it calls to me, “go west, young man.”
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9. |
The Right Words
03:31
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You know that I've always wanted to ask you what it’s like to talk to God. I mean you no harm, no nor second guessing, I've just never had the thought to reach out into that echoing void and to hear it call my name. I see you move on your appointed path and I know that I have never known faith.
I want to be something more than me, but I've never had the nerve. And I want to be something bigger than me, but I just can’t seem to find the right words. I've always wanted to know for certain that I’m the man I was meant to be. But I cannot know not till down comes the curtain. I, I am blind but someday I will see.
You know that I've always wanted to ask you what made this path so sure, so true and righteous, but now I have seen, that the mind may be strong, but the spirit is poor. And forgiveness it stands on the roaring crest of that high and might y wave. And if you look west with the right kind of eyes you might begin to see the end of your days.
You know that I've always wanted to ask you why make this choice so bold. But now I know there is no unseen truth. For all men a time comes and even heroes get old.
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10. |
Sunday
04:07
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Come to Sunday morning, and all my money’s gone. And all my friends are sleeping somewhere, tied up in strangers’ arms. And I don’t want to remember ever waking up, because there is something in your eyes that’s a little too close to love.
I’m scared of the weekend. And I’m scared of my best friends. And I’m scared that you’ll believe this, but I’m scared because you’re leaving.
I want to peel this skin away, rub out the toxins in my heart. Put my sunglasses on and start feeling clean. Live up to my collected parts. But it’s an early Sunday morning and it’s far too late to start. Maybe we’ll come around this time next week and take stock of where we are.
I can hear the bones in your chest like ribs on ancient ships. Creak against the bed of winter and my discontents. Moving back and forth again, strip of the colors of the rest. And step back into these same old clothes. We’re cleaner, we’re better, more or less.
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Opus Dog Beloit, Wisconsin
Opus Dog incorporated sells folk and folk accessories.
Booking questions/cat pictures/conspiracy theory forwards can be directed to theopusdog@gmail.com
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