1. |
Older Now
04:07
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If I had a fingernail left
I would bite down hard
To taste the dirt that never leaves
From my computer keys
I've never lost an arm or leg
I have enough to eat
But every morning brings an ache
I wake without relief
A phantom limb I've never known
It's the fear beneath my feet
That melts the ice away
I fold my undershirts well
I make a perfect crease
But I still haven't buttoned down
The reasons I stay clean
I turn the TV on
Watch someone else's news
I live inside a made-up world
No one scratching for the truth
I only fight the falling leaves
And the boredom in my brain
That makes the devil sing
You'll find me
Waiting on Sunday afternoon
Gun in hand
To shoot the moon
Every moment wasted
Vacant in my history
Is written off
As one more life that I've lost
To something made of more than me
As if I were made of anything
That won't rot
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2. |
Theme (from Blogjob)
02:29
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3. |
Seeds Make Sound
03:12
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When the notes are gone
In a heart of song
Is it wrong to go away
If it means you find your way?
Golden years ago
Folding out from home
Faint memories are a fine bed
For sleep
Under leaves and ground
Where the seeds make sound
Quiet lives grow in the soil
Humble hands that till and toil
When the leaves come down
With the darkness 'round
And the songs go silent
Don't worry for me
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Eric Radoux Nashville, Tennessee
Multi-instrumentalist, composer, and producer inspired by the patient, pulsing energies of the surrounding world.
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