228. The Good Death (Draft – missing chorus)

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT

No. You aren’t dreaming. And neither am I. It’s true: this is a post after nearly a year. I’m going to finish the 365.

Part of the incentive behind finishing is that I’ve had so many people come up to me and ask if I’m going to finish that I can’t ignore it any more. It’s a painful thing, in a way, to know you have a creature of your own floating out there in the vastness of internet space that’s incomplete. And I’ve had enough insomnia recently that I can’t put it off any more. Plus, I want to finish it. I miss the exercise of it, and I have felt its loss because I haven’t created anything in a long, long time. I just needed some… time, I guess. Some really wonderful things have happened in the almost year and half since my last song post. Some sad and bad things, too, but even those things can be considered a welcome creative push (in retrospect most of the time).

Let us begin:

Yeah. It kinda feels like that.

The Good Death. This song was initiated by a Pearl and the Beard writing session. I brought to Jeremy and Jocelyn sections of a uke part I had come up with a few weeks earlier on my own. We put things together and configured exact chords, verse melody, a chorus, a bridge, but didn’t have lyrics or exact form of the song at all. We took the bare bones sketch home with us after our session, and it sat. Months and months later, we put it back on the table, and Jocelyn worked out some really beautiful lyrics with the original melody we had designed. In a rehearsal last week, as much as I loved her awesome lyrics, I wasn’t convinced it was in the sweet spot. It just wasn’t there for me. So, I took it home myself as an exercise, throwing out the melody for the verses and the bridge while keeping the chorus melody we had liked. I redesigned the job of the original uke riff, making it more of an intro or ornament rather than it being the verse itself and wrote a new verse section with a brand new melody. The bridge was a different story. Jeremy and Jocelyn and I came up with this t00-hard-for-me-to-play-on-the-uke bridge but didn’t really know how it was going to function in reality. But we liked it so we left it. In this re-imagining exercise, I almost threw it out. I’m still undecided about its effectiveness, but I like elements of it, so it stayed.

I am posting this as an exercise. I wanted to show the development of a song and how deep it actually can go. The original, original version of this is actually a completely different song. We may go back to it, we may take this, we may throw out all versions all together. One can never predict what will stick and what won’t.

I had 4 focuses for this song:

1. Find cathartic, sincere lyrics. Mean what I’m saying while trying to avoid cliché but make it relatable. Maybe use ideas I’ve discussed recently.

Discussing “The Good Death” – From the internets: “There is no single definition of what constitutes a good death. The definition of a good death will vary for each patient. In 1997 The Institute of Medicine defined a good death as: ‘A decent or good death is one that is: free from avoidable distress and suffering for patients.’”

Also, yes. There is a reference to The Neverending Story.

*Personal note begin*

Have depression? Tension? Anxiety? This might be cliché in and of itself, but it totally works: Find an art or a creative outlet you think you might enjoy (baking [and then have a huge party and let your friends who love you enjoy the fruits of your anxiety], rock painting, cat photography, kazoo playing, etc.). It really doesn’t matter if you’re “good” at it. Create something. Anything. Look at it or sing it. Again and again. Or don’t. Burn it or throw it away. Running. Running also works.

*Personal note end*

2. What do you want to hear? Re-imagine the song keeping as many original elements as possible, but you don’t have to keep what you don’t want to keep.

3. Expect nothing. Possibility of disappointment is high when you’re putting yourself out there, especially if you’re writing in a team situation like Pearl and the Beard. This is a [personally cathartic] songwriting exercise using elements of a previously group-developed skeletal song. That’s all. If it makes it in, it makes it in. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Like Tom Hanks says, “It’s not personal. It’s business.”

4. And as always: No Pre-Judgements. None. Hell, let’s just say No Judgements. Ever.

365 Project alumni know that even if this ends up being used in any way by either me or the band, it will be totally different as a finished product. I mean, I went running the other day and already came up with a totally new verse, new tempo, etc. But displaying it in such infancy is why the 365 was developed. And like we say in sessions, “There’s no judgement in brainstorming.”

Oh. And there is no chorus yet. I have no idea what to put there that doesn’t sound like I’m 5. (Not that being 5 isn’t way bitchin’, cause it totally is.)

RECORDING: As I mentioned above, I have total insomnia, so it is now 4: 43 am. I recorded it at my kitchen table three times at about 2 am, just taking the last one because I think my neighbors could only stand it that many times so early in the morning.

Thank you for listening, reading, sharing.

THE GOOD DEATH (draft – missing chorus)

Give me the Good Death
Because I’ve called it willingly
Just give me the Good Death
Don’t hold it against me

Conjure The Nothing
I’ll contemplate my final breath
Inside your chest The Nothing
Loss always is where you look last

CHORUS

Reach in and eat a broken heart
Starving mouths make ill returns
Quiet now this lump of heart
I can’t escape what I deserve

CHORUS

BRIDGE
Could this maybe be fiction using all your calculations
With the giants I’ll kill your lofty, genius intuition
Using arms of a dozen like it, there will be no complications
We’ll be strangers then.
Be strangers then.

Give me the Good Death
Because I’ve called it willingly
Just give me the Good Death
Don’t hold it against me

(Considering another chorus here)

224. Oh, Canada (10 Minute Write)

SONG TWO-HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR

I am up early like usual this morning.  I have guests, and this is slightly problematic for recording, so I’m going to need to improvise.  It is very unusual that I run into someone (who often isn’t in their retirement years) that wakes up as early as me, but I find that my new street wakes up with me.  At around 7 am loud music announces the morning.  The other day it was a guy walking around with a boombox playing REM’s “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It” (that was at 6:30).  This morning it was a white car with an excellent sound system parked right across the street hitting the rap.

After the morning call of music comes the voices.  Locals are already awake, sitting on the stoop, chatting it up.  This morning I heard the words, “Jail”, “Murder”, “Hardware store”, “I gotta get paid”, in between shots of laughter sprinkled with a bit of cussing.  All of those words, mind you, were not related to one another within the conversation, though I could start a whole new rumor about something going down at the hardware store down the street.  But I would want to include a mermaid: every good story has a mermaid.

Today marks the first day of Pearl and the Beard’s second leg of tour.  I know.  That’s weird.  We intended on a full two weeks including dates up in Canada, but they didn’t pan out.  I secretly attribute it to a fiasco I got myself into a few years ago trying to do a solo show up in Toronto.  I tried to cross the border at Niagra Falls.  They said, “Why are you coming here?”  Now, what I should have said was… nothing.  But instead I said something to the effect of, “Oh, you know, playing a Radiohead show.”  Never.  Never.  Never use sarcasm at the boarder.  Never.  Needless to say, I was kicked out post haste.  Did the Canadians know Pearl and the Beard wanted to play there?  Do they have plants who report back to them? (I’ve made a few sketchy Canadian friends in my life (Erin A., Stephen M., Kayson B. [okay, Kayson is only sort of a Canadian]). I’m forming a belief they are spies set to destroy…or at least entertain me.

Today’s song will be dedicated to those officers… particularly the hottie in the booth who initially pulled me aside.

I wrote this in about 10 minutes.  The great thing about music is that you can put three chords together and have a song. Quick. Cause that’s what I need.  The cheer in the end is from my visiting anthropologist-sister-in-law Bonnie.  Recorded once and I didn’t even bother editing it because a song about Canada should only take one time with no editing.  Sorry about the internal mic use – I hate it so much.

See you on the road!  Pearl and the Beard leaves in 20 minutes for Pittsburgh, PA…check out the schedule here: www.pearlandthebeard.com

Oh, Canada

Oh Canada you kicked me out

An officer, he cast his doubt

On me, on me

 

Sarcastically, proclaimed my stay

A free, fine show to my dismay

Was my mistake

 

I called for help, you ran from me

Cried out your name, beyond the sea

But you wained, you wained

 

Passport sports a large black spot

Upon it now reads, “Enter Not”

Such a fool, to believe…Oh, Canada

 

Oh Canada, gave me the boot

The officer was super cute

Thought I could win with a smile

 

No matter my coquettishness

They sent me back to the eagle’s nest

America.  America.  Oh, Canada!

178. Potiphar

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT

Pauline Frederick as Potiphar's Wife in her stage hit "Joseph and His Brethren"

I have a neighbor named Sarah who walks her pug Otto.  I saw her today and she said, “So, what are you going to write about today?”  I said, “I don’t know.  Give me a word!  Any word.”

She is an artist.  She said, “Color.”

“Done!” I said.

In the shower, a place of incredible insight, I came up with this idea.  Now, I am leaving now, at 9 am EST, to go to a matinée (Matinee’s in New York are before noon.  Otherwise you’re paying $12 a ticket to see a new movie until instead of $6 bargain matinée price.  In Utah, $6 used to be the “expensive” late night price.  Oh, movies.  Why must you be so dumb?!)  I am trying a new thing for me: writing the lyrics out completely and then putting the melody to it after.  I have started on the lyrics and, when I return from my sojourn into movie land (as I haven’t seen a movie in the theatre in a long time!), I will finish it all up.  So, here are the lyrics so far.  Sarah’s idea of color lead me to ye-olde-letter-game like the version of L-O-V-E by Nat King Cole.

I find doing lyrics first really weird and motivating.  It’s like getting a new hair cut and waking up every day wondering what in the world it’s going to want to do today… (is that a weird analogy or what!?)

So far, I’ve come up with the idea of writing about Potiphar’s wife and Joseph in the bible…will discuss this later.  This idea didn’t come to me until the second verse, so I might have to revisit the initial bunny line, since that was the first line that came to me… would Potiphar’s wife have a bunny?

**Time Warp**

Hello!  I am posting the finished draft of the song.  Phew!  This was a tough one because I tried to stay within the color theme, but ended up abandoning it for the sake of images I would rather use (rather than bunnies or purple dresses).  I kept with the Potiphar’s Wife and Joseph theme as it kept me in line and on track.  I’m having trouble finding my “muse” recently.  Admittedly, I’ve been lazy with the melody today in section B and improvised it.  But, I don’t mind using the letter game to get lyrics out and don’t feel bad with not sticking with it, though I tried not to change too much to keep the integrity of the exercise, as I ended up with some images I really like.

HAPPY AMERICA WEEKEND EVERYONE!

Potiphar (First Draft Lyrics)

Bring back the bunny you bought for me, boyfriend

Love me forever and lie with me softly

U lick the back of my fat little fingers

Everyone knows us, but don’t know what we are

Ring of my finger to cover the stretch marks

Enter the space where my heart use to be

Dye my dress purple to find me so quickly

You have a space in the midst of my summer

Even as elephants trample my flowers

Lie, won’t you lie with me in the deep winter

Lover, I’ve come to you over and over

Olive branch give me, my healing baptizer

Will as I will you, I plead your surrender

This is the revised version I ended with

Potiphar (Second Draft Lyrics and Melody)

Lie with me now, Love me for always

You lick the back of my fat little fingers

Everyone knows us, but no one knows that we’re sinking

Ring of my finger to cover the stretch marks

Enter the space where my heart use to be

Plant there a garden, the shape of which will fill completely

You have a space in the midst of my summer

Even as elephants trample my flowers

Lie, won’t you lie with me in the deep winter

Lover, I’ve come to you over and over

Olive branch give me, my healing baptizer

Will as I will you, I plead your surrender

Lie with me now, Love me for always

139. Show Me Ole Texas

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINE

Texas Cowboy

Instrumentation: 2 tracks of Bariton Uke, treated

Midi: Several tracks of treated beats and one track of treated grand piano

Vocals: treated (vocal transformer)

Finished track: slowed down 10 BPMs from original recording tempo.

Lyrics: Inspired from old set lists from other bands found at Hog Farm Annex when Pearl and the Beard played there last night.  Jocelyn found three different set lists from nameless bands to use as scrap paper for our set, and, as we read through them, she mentioned they might work well as a 365 song.  So, here it is an old set list put to good 365 use.  The only rule was that I couldn’t change any of the words to fit the tense.  I had to use what was there though I could combine them or split them up.  In my original versions of this exercise (I did several), I used all the words, but for this song, I decided to cut a bunch out of it to simplify the piece as a whole.

This is how the set list I ended up using read… (if this is your band, or if you know who this might be: thanks!)

Label pills

El Gusano

Show Me

Ol Texas

Slow Shards

Super Vision

Acreless

Shot n Shot

Throw duck

Jet Fighter

Outside

Show Me Ole Texas

Show me ole Texas

The one we knew when we were younger

An acreless vision

Send me to El Gusano

A shot in the dark

I have super vision

She will see through me

She will see through me

Like your favorite dress

Show me ole Texas

Throw me a label of pills

We’ll drive through the night

Texas.

Pearl and the Beard is goin’ home tomorrow!  It’s been a fun mini tour, and it’s been very relaxing.  Thanks to all who made it out to the shows!  See you soon!

131. The Squirrel (Poet Alice Friman)

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE

TONIGHT!

SHAMELESS PLUG! (Because I know you like shameless)

WASHINGTON, DC ~ FRIDAY, MAY 14 @ 8pm

Emily Hope Price, Ugly Purple Sweater & Sonya Cotton

The New Community Church: 614 S Street Northwest, Washington, DC

In Keene last week, Anna Vogelzang, Guy Capecelatro and I played a venue called The Starving Artist.  In this venue they had a few poetry books laying out with a few card games and such.  The morning after our show, Guy and I were madly putting songs together while waiting for Anna to wake up (as we stayed the night right above the venue and got in the next morning to play around…).  Guy began playing this uke part and I opened up an anthology of poetry to use as lyrics.  The random poem that I opened to was Alice Friman’s The Squirrel.  I used a portion of about two stanzas which occur in the middle.  I linked to Google Books below to the entire poem which is found in Friman’s book called: Zoo.

The Squirrel by Alice Friman

The melody was mainly improvised as we were just writing as fast as we could with the time allotted us.  In order to fit the general rhythm I felt we had going, I made some slight changes to the wording when necessary.  I think it came out nice for an unprepared piece and might have some promise to work on a little bit further.  Guy is a great inspiration for songwriting.  He has a kind of abandonment I really need in times of writing trouble.

The Squirrel

Close the curtains

Wrap us in hymns

Twist all our hands something beautiful

Bury it, bury it, bury it

God, don’t open it.

Don’t open it.

Flesh, sorry flesh

The dirt that dampens then smells

Rubbed glossies hidden

Between mattress and box spring a little fat jammed between

That closes, that closes when life doesn’t want us

That closes when life doesn’t want us.

127. The Mermaid Song (Anna Vogelzang)

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN

Good morning.

In Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Anna Vogelzang and I drove to the coast and sat in her car on a rainy afternoon to write a nd record this song.  I came up with a quick chord progression on the uke, and I gave us a 30 minute writing time limit.  I also gave Anna a list of words that she fashioned into lyrics.  The list of words was:

tunnel

excavate

sea

foam

fire

bleach

rock

buoy

serendipitous

crash victim

gasoline

machine

hypocrite

In Anna’s words:

Things I think are important: the mermaid took on a crazy/manic character to me while I was making words to fit the melody (why do we only write about crazy ladies?!) obsessed with the love/partner/fella or lady who left her, who presumably is on land.  It’s kind of like a really twisted little mermaid. I see her as creating as much destruction as possible, but not in malice, in hope.  She would rather die than be without this person, and she will do whatever it takes (destroy whatever she must, maybe) to get above.  I also came up with the churning-waves-machine from what you said about believing in mermaids, and that it looked like someone was hand-making the waves sometimes.

The Mermaid Song

i’ve been (OR silent? would have to listen to the take) down here digging tunnels now for weeksslowly excavate your heart

easy cuprit, it has grown immune to bleach

i will force my way

i was born into the foam of this brute sea

churn the waves each waning night

spin machines & spark dark fires aimlessly

i will force my way

no matter where you’ve run

i will make my way above

my dear, where have you run?

i will die or tunnel up

buoy broken & i plow it through the deep

i am still your hypocrite

serendipitous, this search party beneath

i will force my way

to you

no matter where you’ve run

i will make my way above

my dear, where have you run?

i will die or tunnel up

i will die or tunnel up

119. Deck (Songs from Underneath) HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

DAY ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN

Queen Lacey. Sir Jonathan. Underneath.

Today I enjoyed Montauk for the first time ever.  (Preface: Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind is in my top 5 favorite movies of all time).  It took us about 2 and a half hours to drive there.  We went today because off leash dog season ends in a few days, and I’m on tour for the rest of the time and always talk about going, so we made a last-minute mad dash to the furthest out-to-sea part of New York.  It was absolutely beautiful.  It was a bit windy, cool and foggy.  Awesome.

I brought with me my recording equipment, 2 ukes, the bells, the snare, the omnichord and the thumb piano.  On our drive there, I kept looking for interesting things that might make for a good “underneath song”.  On the beach on top of a hill of sand, there was a large deck and, underneath that, a perfect space to sit and record.  So, Lacey dug herself out a little resting space, and Jonathan and I recorded this song.  By the time I got to the end, every string was out of tune!  Ha!  Blame it on the ocean air.

You can hear the ocean in the background which I feel was so much a part of the composition of this song that no lyrics were needed.

It was my intention to do a song for my dad’s birthday, which is TODAY!  Our trip to the ocean brought on some different ideas for it, so I hope you like it.  My dad isn’t a perfect sleeper, but maybe he could sleep to this…(though I considered doing a cover for his birthday, isn’t an original better than a cover for a birthday gift?!)

I love you, Dad!

Deck

112. Dead Man’s Bones (Jonathan Clark)

DAY ONE-HUNDRED TWO

Rules of this exercise:

1. Set a time limit: 15 minutes: lyrics, 10 minutes: music

2. Set a rhyme scheme: ABBA

3. Set per line beat: 4

4. Alternate author’s lines: Emily – Line one, Jonathan – Line two… and so on…

5. Pick an instrument: Emily – Baritone uke, Jonathan – drums

6. ROCK!!!

It’s okay that neither one of us can really play these instruments… ha!   I have been watching X Files.  There are a lot of flashlights always waving around in dark places… oh, and a lot of dead bodies and bones, too…

Dead Man’s Bones

Done a bad, bad thing in the neon lights

Got one foot in and one foot out

Ate a dead man’s bones in a summer drought

But I feel all right

God, He sent me down one fateful night

Three dimes in my pocket and a shotgun shell

Stoppin’ in Heaven on my way to Hell

And I feel all right

It’s the meanest thing I ever did

Since I pushed down the preacher’s kid

But I feel all right

100. Death and Taxes (Nothing More Certain)

DAY ONE HUNDRED

ONE HUNDRED DAYS!!!

I started doing my taxes at 7:30 am today.  I finished them at 4 pm.  Something you might want to note is that I’m in a slump.  Songwriters go through these things, however, but we don’t really see or experience them as a listener.   Through this project, you get to hear it.

It’s okay.  Really.

I wasn’t okay with it when I first realized it was happening, but I have to be okay with it now.  I wonder if it’s because a lot has happened recently to distract me, and certainly crunching numbers all day doesn’t help to create and post a song today.  Nonetheless, here is my labored song..

Writing: Jonathan is such a help to me.  We sat in front of the computer (you should know I was complaining the whole time about how I couldn’t think of anything to do or say…) and he pulled out a bunch of different ideas that might get me going: a strangely awesome book called “Tom Swift Jr.: Tom Swift and His Deep-Sea Hydrodome”.  The captions for the illustrations are hilarious: “The intruder dealt the repelatron a smashing blow, then whirled around and attacked Tom.”  After some messing around we moved onto the “Bon Iver” method.  I have no real confirmed reason to call this method thus, though I believe I did read somewhere that Bon Iver has written this way: mumble and have someone (or yourself) write down what they (you) think you’re saying.  So, that’s what Jonathan did.  He has a good ear for what people might be saying (most of the time it’s totally random and weird like in ACDC’s song Dirty Deeds, he always sings it as, “Dirty Deeds and the Thunder Cheeks” instead of “Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap”.)

The uke part itself is pretty improvisational… though I wish I had prepared myself better… in improvised instrumental part means the melody is pretty much improvised, too.  It’s a good and bad exercise…

I was quite frustrated with the instrumentation… accordion? Cello? Baritone Uke?! Ahh!! NOTHING.  In the end, I just sat with whatever was in my hand.  I don’t mind the words, but I purposely distanced myself from a melody requirement.  The pressure was off because I’m so late and became so judgemental and critical.

I didn’t end up really getting into the writing mood (at any rate) until Jonathan left the room to take a nap (he noted this out loud to me as he was drifting off in the next room…).  That says something for sure… can you write with someone else sitting right next to you?

Recording: Several versions of different kind of songs were done with different instruments.  This is the last recording of the last instrument I tried.

What I learned/things to ponder: Patience. Procrastination doesn’t help anything, even if you’re doing taxes.  Focus matters.  How do I get focus back on the task at hand when I’m so far from it?

Personal Side Note: A huge surprise came knocking at my door today… some dear, loving and supportive friends sent me flowers on my one-hundredth day of the 365.  I couldn’t have felt any cooler (and admittedly undeserving) of such an incredible surprise…Thank you Melanie and Jason!

Death and Taxes (Nothing More Certain)

It’s the kind of kid that takes it, water in my eyes I floated to the top

I picked up what I can’t buy here, put them in a dog hole, she’s going down, she’s going down

Oh, she’s in my head, Oh, she’s in my head

There’s nothing more certain than death and taxes, Neighbor sat for the whole show

I said it’s nothing, I said it’s nothing who can know?  You’re the guard.  It’s sentinel got down in seven-hundred

One hundred times the pace, and we will march it, here we go.

89. At the Paunsaugunt

EIGHT-NINE

Good morning 2:37 am, how are you?

It is so late, I have yet to sleep, I have a show coming up, and I’m performing on the radio at 9 am (KRCL in Salt Lake City) in a few hours… all of these really good justifications for staying up until 3 and posting for the 365.  I’ve felt I’ve been a bit out of it lately, especially for the 365, so I feel I need to apologize mainly to my past self that expected more, perhaps a bit unrealistically, of the present-future EHP.

All self-depreciating comments aside, I have written a quick song tonight (this morning) which I’m considering playing live on the radio today… though I can totally already tell I might chicken out.  The chances of me waking up at 7 am to remember what I had done at 2:30 am are slim, but I might try it.  Ever try singing at 9 am?  We’ll see.

Jonathan is helping me put together all the CDs for the shows.  I hand make all the CDs I sell, so it’s very time-consuming.  He’s exhausted, but still going, and I am here typing.

Writing: The purpose of this was interesting for me.  I very often, and almost always, let the melody dictate the lyrics.  I’ve noticed recently songwriters and composers who let the words dictate the melody.  I have actually recorded cello parts for quite a few of these kinds of writers and, I’m telling you, these are hard songs to catch onto right away for me.  They follow unpredictable line patterns because they aren’t obeying the written melody but the written word.  It’s fascinating what these kinds of changes can do to the melody itself.  I think I have done such a thing, but never consciously.  That’s what today’s song is: a conscious exercise in allowing the words to take a more prominent role in deciding where the melody goes.  I had two of my lyric note books in front of me.  The first half of this song was written in a few seconds right before I recorded and the second half (the soldier part) was a section out of one of my older note books I have brought with me.  I recommend to everyone, regardless of your profession, to have a blank (or lined) notebook in your possession at all times.  You just never know: grocery list, a letter to your grandma, or you might run into me without a piece of paper.

And Paunsaugunt… well, the word I had been stuck on was fascination (speaking of: Fascination Street by The Cure: get it, listen to it, love it.).  I turned to Jonathan and said, “First word that comes to you right now…”.  That word was Paunsaugunt.  I had to ask him what he was saying five times before figured out he wasn’t saying: “Hauns is compt”.  Read about the Paunsaugunt Plateau.  I owe Jonathan a million different really cool words that are in my songs.  He’s a fount of weird and random information.

I referenced this image in the opening line and in the crow line.  I took this when we were in Bryce Canyon for Jonathan’s father’s funeral.

Bryce Canyon

Yet again, tuned the baritone uke all weird.  The strumming pattern I tried was a conscious idea in thinking about Elliot Smith’s busy guitar style.  If you haven’t heard of him, you really should.  Though he is not longer with us, he continues to inspire many.

Recording:  We are staying with dear friends while we are here.  They have two lovely kids who are sleeping down the hall, so I had to be much quieter than I probably would have been, but I think it works.  I also had to use a cloths hamper for a mic stand: I also think this helped… how could it hurt, right?

At the Paunsaugunt

At the Paunsaugunt she waits until she’s underneath

And the crows with feet and nails in cracks will circle round

Took the time to stop and see the face she’ll recognize

And they will breathe together

Should it be that I don’t find you send the soldiers out

In all honesty will I surrender

And I’ll have you home, you will never tender

And collide

In my dream I saw the river flooding, on the ride

As the owl is sick and rising high

And she’s gone, and she’s gone as they go

At the Paunsaugunt she waits until she’s underneath