Lyrics

WESTERN COUNTY AT NIGHT

Take me back, Henry Failing
I must be ailing
Take me back to the trails
Lay my body in the Ochoco woods
Beneath the Cascades
If everything else fails
I’ve been running around the world, you see
Supposedly finding the real me
Oh, but long ago I found trees
And mountains reaching higher than any of these buildings

Far, far away I’ll go
Folks always say hello, all my
Worries behind me
So free

If you’re from Norway, Myanmar
Or Madagascar
Consider yourself blessed
It’s a triumph for an American man
To have just one day
His doubtful mind at rest
We say, “If God is real, well then I need proof!”
And struggle to find some definitive truth
I think I’ll walk outside instead
To find more wisdom and credence than anything some book said

PARTY FOR MYSELF

Another day
Holding down the fort again
“We’ll be back in a week,” they said
“Pathetic seeing your tears,” they left
Unnaturally, I drew up a plan
Like any sensible child would do
Though it’s taken me
Till I was a man
Card games, cutting cake soon after
Faces filled with helium laughter

But Jamie, Jamie, Jamie’s always out of town
Chasing well-to-dos in a wedding gown
And Michael went away to find a real career
How he’d look at me strangely still living here
Imagine me in a pirate suit
Hunt for hidden treasure
If I find the nickel lipsticks on the highest shelf
They’ll be swallowed whole
I’ll throw a party for myself

Another night
Unwillingly alone again
An Epsom bath and a restless nap
Pop-up books with fatal finger traps
My hands shake, scraping the floor
I know I never asked for much
Or begged for some sin
I just want to go outside
But I’m not sure it’s alright
The critics are gone and still I shake with this stage fright

To push, push, push against the safety rail
In the cradle, nearly drunk off of ginger ale
I’ll come crashing down, crashing down in the blink of an eye
They say the longer you live, the longer you die
Imagine me in a pirate suit
Hunt for hidden treasure
If I find the Robitussin on the highest shelf
In a liquid ore
I’ll throw a party for myself

MIRROR PHOBIA

Spider eyes
A thousand views of my face
Be safely blurred by disaffection
In the light of the day
Every bathroom (every little bathroom)
Like a gleaming royal chalice
And every fad’s
Shiny window ad
Like a televangelical crystal palace

I know I’ve gone too far
I don’t know what else I can do
Build a casket
In a tar pit
Hide away, hide away from this
Mirror phobia

The pictures
Really were fun
The ones we took in an oatmeal bath
Veiled from unflattering sun, oh-ho-ho
The pictures
Were admittedly fun
But would you believe?
Could you conceive?
That I tore them to shreds, every one, and

I know I’ve gone too far
I don’t know what else I can do
Have a wrestling match
With a briar patch
Hide away, hide away from this
Mirror phobia

ROBERTS BLOSSOM

- Instrumental -

RED ROPE OF JERICHO

The end of the week so nervous finds me
No more comforted by night or the thought that my life, itself
Is writing a book already on the shelf
The clock always slows to Friday’s crawl
Shadows in the street bay the Siren’s call as
Mansions appear; negligees surround me
In costume rooms
Built as tombs
For the shy and lonely

So I’ll wait for your sign
Throw down that Red Rope of Jericho
When will you join my side
And tell me the secrets that I’ve never known
Yeah, I’ll wait for your sign
Throw down that Red Rope of Jericho
Sometime

The twilight fades so far behind me
Your door slammed in my face, this petty bourgeoisie
Just wanted some community
I’ll lie in bed, watch a TV show
I’ll try to live my life in the status quo
You say, “The next generation will change our worldview”
But I’m the man
The also-ran
That your kid grew into

A PRAYER FOR SECOND CHANCES

When I see a debutante acting so dull
A paint-by-numbers sketch on an unblemished scroll
I get a taste for bitter food
I get a taste for bitter food

When I hear a young man of curious aims
Admit to someone else passion fed by two flames
I get a taste, I do, for bitter food
I get a taste for strong drink

Because I know that when the
Rain pours down
They’ll prolong their goodbyes
And when the wind knocks me over
The faster their jets fly by
The only words of comfort I may hear
Are, “Don’t look so wrecked. What did you expect?”

A prayer for second chances
A prayer for second chances
A prayer for second chances, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh

Music and Lyrics by Tyler Burns, © 2012