1. |
Beyond My Time
03:07
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2. |
Ancient Poetry
02:54
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I'm stuck behind a mirror and the other side ain't clearer
But I'm three feet shorter than the wall I'd like to climb
Said I'm tired, of living like some old empty kitchen
and my hands are torn, rubbing the stress off of my face
In any case
Chorus:
Goodnight home, goodnight ecstasy, and to old love lost and ancient poetry
Goodnight moon, and to bright lights still shining,
and to old love lost and ancient poetry
V2:
And I feel like a broken bird in the dead sea, no land in sight just the waves and me
But I'm healing a short time before I drown
I'm still a ship short of displaying my golden crown
And my eyes are worn, from prolonged salted sun gaze
In any case
Chorus
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3. |
Messy's Affair
04:07
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The wealthy and have always been the cattle barons
Making money off the backs, off the backs of horses
While boss man's got his prime cuts and porters and wine
The cowhands eating ketchup soup for 3 courses
And Messy was one of the crew, to saddle mounts before daybreak
He was born with boiler in his gut, and rage in my hands
To say he had stars in his eyes, would be an understatement
It was closer to brimstone and fire
So when he pitched his plan, and dawned his colt to make his final stand
The piss poor gang he'd gathered, threw in with lust and ire
Didn't matter they was green for bandits, they're greed was what counted
They were one more body between the law and us
Plans were good, as far as rustling goes, it was mighty trusty
Should've been an easy job, should've been the last one
'Cept we got ambushed by the lawmen, badges glistened in the moon glow
Time has come to do or die guess someone pulled a fast one
Slugs cut holes through the midnight sky, paint a palomino red
I prayed for the first time that night
And as for Mess, I watched him fall, clutching to the remnants of a dream
He'd never see the riches he planned, died with a only a lucky penny in his jeans
I felt a tear, and yet a smile the moment that he left us
His heart weighed more than prized bull we stole, still he'd never find peace
He bled out not far from where he was birthed, he'd die just like his daddy did
There's something there about a father, an apple and a tree
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4. |
Waiting At Home
03:43
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If I turned snow white, for every scar on my hide, you'd swear I look just like December
and heart would be torn, forgotten and worn, sad and slightly dismembered
it's all how you walk, say less when you're talkin', is how a man is measured
But cowboys don't cry, I heard in a line, so just tip your hat and say it's been a pleasure
Chorus:
I've got a good one, waiting at home
She ain't much look at, I know
We've had our fights,
I've cussed her some nights,
But she's always right there in the morning
We don't say much, but she's soft to the touch, if I'm lucky to catch her at all
She's a hard working woman, she gets the job done, despite all my flaws
Sometimes she's moody, a little unruly, she can even be a real handful
Even when she's having fun, out in the sun, with her ears straight back to the cantle
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Markus Sommer Ponoka, Alberta
Calling central Alberta home, writing songs and shoeing horses.
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