1. |
Caffeine Evenings
03:40
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Original lyrics:
Sitting in a coffee shop sipping
on lukewarm, sugar-coated egotistical mentality
I caught the eye of the barista
Examining the intricacies
Of my slowly separating fresh colloidal beverage
As if societal leverage had exerted such torque
That even cream and khaki
Couldn’t make love anymore
Chorus:
I know how it feels
to be that painting on the wall that’s starting to peel
Product of mass produced misguided ideals
And ill-conceived bearer of
failure at sustaining long-term appeal
Midnight meanderings mirrored behind
Steam soaked window panes aligned
Across the room from
the hanging of a canvassed loom spun
run your fingers through his hair
linger there blind
reminder that we’re all the same color whence entwined
in the dark confines of lover’s shared bed space binds singing
Chorus
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2. |
Do Us Part
03:32
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Original lyrics:
Never so comforted by the pleasant surprise
rainy college AM and your footsteps on linoleum
Bare soles slightly slapping like the first drops of
an unexpected summer rain.
Flowers by the side of the road
Cold under the air conditioners blind hum;
Where smiles stemmed
And cheeks were ripening strawberries
The air was sweetened with the aroma of rose tea
And the couple toasted their marriage with honey
Imported brie and brand-name colas.
A guest during the merger of two families
At best
Later, following a funeral for the father of a close friend
A bundle of flowers cloistered by a dead-end side of the road
Commemorated uncomfortable pressure to grow the back of the throat
Like the benighted awareness felt when cradling an unrequited lover
Svelte as she sleeps, the arm numbs
and I succumb: gardening passenger burying motherly pains of never wanting to let go
Examined a rose petal, table garnish
Pregnant then aborted, resoundingly plump in color albeit tarnished
Blemish on my peripheral vision
Like the tear in the eye of the bride
Love stricken and afraid of excision
She no longer a lone stem flourishing next to him
and mortal in newborn virgin forest knew that
Death was a florist – gentle-handed meticulous judiciary
Reminder that imperfection is not just beautiful but necessary
And in the dark I am my cousin’s infant child
Innocent, warily curious and deadly
Like a toddler picking strawberries
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3. |
Lullaby
03:25
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Grant Livesay Winston Salem, North Carolina
dogged sonic diary curating hobbyist otherwise doppelgänging as producer, arranger, composer, multi-instrumentalist,
lyricist, vocalist, recording engineer, vocal engineer, compiler, mixing engineer, and mastering engineer -
truth is in the shambles of i am -
... more
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