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.
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
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
Keep looking. Some stories are hiding between the songs.