Fragments
Pieces of Songs
Not everything becomes a song. Some lines stay scraps; some scraps stay truer than the songs they almost became. Here they are — out of order, the way a box of paper keeps them.
Voice memo — 6:12 AM "The light is different now. I can't tell if it moved or if someone shifted the frame while I wasn't looking. Maybe it doesn't matter anymore. I think I'll face this way instead."
— Voice Memos · 1:08
Smoke and flame Bring the horses inside The mountains are glowing orange There is nowhere left to hide
— from 'The Fifth'
The burden leaves my body Like ash on the tide I was never meant to carry Someone else's sky
— from 'Stars Were Never Mine'
I've spent years wondering whether telling my truth is an act of courage or an act of selfishness. Maybe the answer changes depending on who is listening.
— journal · july
If the whole world turns away tonight And every window closes tight I'd still be reaching through the dark Trying to find where you are
— random lyrics that come to me
I keep hearing songs in my dreams again. Full on melodies, lyrics, scores. I haven't been able to wake up yet to document them. But they are there again — begging to get out. Aching to become songs.
— journal · june
Tonight I played the new songs for someone I'd just met. She listened to every one of them. Asked questions. Wanted the stories. When they drove home I was convinced I'd talked too much. It's strange how easy it is to write the truth into a song and how difficult it is to believe someone when they tell you it mattered.
— journal · june
There's a crow now at my shoulder I don't question anymore - It's the part of me that watched it When I couldn't see before
— from 'The Song of the Morrigan'
Three o'clock hums in the fridge A halo of light on the tile
— a piece of lyric, scrawled on a napkin
Voice memo — 4:54 PM "If I ever write again, it's not going to be what it was. It's going to be darker" — Something I told my guitar player after the songs stopped. Turns out I was right.
— Voice Memos · 0:43
Headlights bleeding on the highway Every mile looked the same Trying to outrun the ghosts in the rearview With no one left to blame
— from 'The Road'
Sent the song 'Laikin' to her mother. She cried at the bridge. For a moment, it felt like Laikin was in the room. And I think that's the closest a song gets to coming home.
— journal · may
I was steady on the surface While I was drowning underneath When a light came through the darkness Washing over me
— from 'Weightlessly'
Track the vocal first thing, before coffee, before I've talked to anyone. When the lyrics come to me in dreams, I have to get them out so they don't disappear.
— from the studio journal
Barstool gospel — three chords and the bartender as a witness. Keep it dirty. Don't clean it up.
— song idea
Keep looking. Some stories are hiding between the songs.