1. |
Warped Chopin Waltzes
03:49
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Stomach-down listening to warped Chopin waltzes wondering if it’s better not to feel or feel too much. Spent little fool playing sad, looking anxious straining too hard to be human or such.
Maybe I chased myself into the deep end of wrong or borrowed more light ‘til I can’t repay my debts. Maybe it looks like I’m frozen with wanting
when all I want is the will to forget
all I am or ever was or ever failed to be.
My own body, another half-wrought gesture
carrying out and cursing my complicity.
Stare at my palms, broken lines showing nothing
my fate mapped in flesh by divine decree.
Maybe I chased myself into the deep end of wrong
or borrowed more light ‘til I can’t repay my debts.
Maybe it looks like I’m frozen with wanting
when all I want is the will to forget
all I am or ever was or ever failed to be.
Oh, the fire don’t put on airs, don’t pretend to be the water
so why am I cleaving myself to be the crowning daughter, to be all I am or ever was or ever failed to be?
All I am or ever was I was never, never meant to be.
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2. |
Cassady Road
02:39
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The first one left me something, now I’m stuck with nothing so I’m taking a walk down by Cassady Rd.
Up ahead, a field of darnel next to a field of clover,
a greenly-marrowed river coughs ‘til it flows.
I like the feeling of the sky pressing blue against my skin. In a little while I know this heat, it’s bound to do me in. But on days like this you can die by the sun,
die by the sun and not even mind it.
On days like this you can die by the sun, die by the sun and not even mind it.
On days like this...
On a road like this...
In a state like this...
It’s all forgiveness!
It’s all forgiveness!
But on days like this you can die by the sun, die by the sun and not even mind it.
On days like this you can die by the sun, die by the sun and not even mind it.
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3. |
A Little Warming
02:37
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There are nights of fear, the house settles in
to some vague, and baleful sleeplessness
and I huddle in the pool of light
the lamp throws on the rug beside the bed.
I tried to do right, I tried to tie tight the good inside. But now I can barely breathe.
Now I am barely me.
And the crow cries three times tonight
I need a little warming.
Three strikes, the house ignites
far afield, a kettle swarming.
And if they cared, they could see
Spica in Virgo through the trees
heralding a time of rebirth—I’m birthing myself, a phoenix from flames.
And I need to be burned to be cleansed,
I need to be cleansed to be saved
so it’s fire against fire, fare thee well what was, fare thee well my chains.
And the crow cries three times tonight
I need a little warming.
Three strikes, the house ignites
far afield, a kettle swarming.
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4. |
Handful of Flowers
03:44
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If Death should question my breathing, I tried to get it right, tried to shake my light out, but all that’s left of me now,
all that’s left of me now
is a second chance and a burning house.
Sometimes it’s a hard day for years, but you’ve gotta believe you are the Promised Land.
By Death, I earned my freedom. My grace, I’ll get it right. Swore a handful of flowers, but all that’s left of me now
all that’s left of me now
is a pile of ash and a taste for power.
Sometimes it’s a hard day for years, but you’ve gotta believe you are the Promised Land.
If gods gain glory by burning up men,
am I to call myself a god now, then?
Such brutality comes to us, I lean into the fire smell.
The walking the waking, the there and the aching—
I know the hell, for I am the hell,
and now, I’m free of the flesh
and tomorrow doesn’t know me yet
so you’d better believe I’m now the Promised Land. Sometimes it’s a hard day for years, but you’d better believe I’m now the Promised Land.
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5. |
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A morning sky rises a faint, wasteland green.
Am I living in a metaphor realer than I’ve ever been?
I yearned for a new day for so long,
well, now here it is, but where is my dawn?
Oh, brave. Oh, blessed one.
Oh, brave. Oh, blessed one.
My curse is my clarity: I see too much.
Like my past is this creek that I cross, too toxic to touch. So I drive down wrong roads both ways,
missed an exit or three, so is this my fate?
Oh, brave. Oh, blessed one.
Oh, brave. Oh, blessed one.
The secret is as it’s always been:
Wherever you want it to, the road ends.
The secret is as it’s always been:
Wherever you want it to, the road ends.
So this time, I pardon you.
This time, I pardon you.
This time, I pardon you.
Just drop your sin and go.
So this time, I pardon you.
This time, I pardon you.
This time, I pardon you.
Just drop your sin and go.
Oh, brave. Oh, blessed one.
Oh, brave. Oh, blessed one.
Just drop your sin and go.
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6. |
Navin's Song
02:32
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With a little bit of whiskey, you can find the blues. It whispers mercy, but it never sings true.
My lips to bless, to bless these lies.
I know the burning and I know the sighs.
We could cry on every blue face
and flood out wonder at a violent pace
and if there’s God in you to hate,
well, I am his prophet.
I feel good when I feel like I’m brooding. My febrile veins, and my vision is muted. Oh, I’m dumb, big, drunk, sailing.
My body rendered unavailing.
Hey, hey, hey! This drunken place.
Hey, hey, hey! Flask-wielder!
Come over here and bring me that ‘shine. Come over here and bring me home.
The secret is in this lonesomewhere
I’m more than a bit unsteady.
Those dirty draughts that hold onto old men, well, they got their hooks in me already.
We could cry on every blue face
and flood out wonder at a violent pace
and if there’s God in you to hate,
well, I am his prophet.
Yes, I am his prophet.
Oh, I am his prophet.
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7. |
Ren's Song
03:12
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Turn at the light, turn off the radio.
We’ll make it to Copper Hill before the moon hits its stride. You saw the mountaintops; I swore I’d saw them off
to stay here by your side.
I used to yearn for silence so loud I could crawl inside.
I used to yearn for Oklahoma and a good cry.
I used to yearn for a lingering lie, but now I have all I need: It’s you, and me, and my desire under a red star 88’ high, and as we watch the city crawl like cowards below
we’ll know we’re alive, at least for the night.
I ache between my teeth every time I hear you speak,
this incandescence is no light thing.
I’ll chew through my wrist to the place where you exist beating inside me.
It’s you, and me, and my desire under a red star 88’ high, and as we watch the city crawl like cowards below
we’ll know we’re alive, at least for the night.
It’s you, and me, and my desire under a red star 88’ high, and as we watch the city crawl like cowards below
we’ll know we’re alive, at least for the night.
It’s you, and me, and my desire.
It’s you, and me, and my desire.
It’s you, and me, and my desire.
And a red star.
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8. |
Popskull
02:26
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Twice I will breathe you in
to prove you’re really real,
but nobody is, ‘cause we all leave eventually,
and fantasies fade faster than they feel.
When you go, I hope to be there by your side,
your first drink in the morning and your last drink and night. So drink me in; I’ll drink you in.
Drink me in, Navin.
I could be a still, I assume: copper veins for copper tubes and my skin burning sweet with corn mash and hickory
and nasty thoughts of all that I would do to you.
So pour these days out like heads onto the earth.
Temp me with a shake to see I’m well 100-proof
and drink me in; I’ll drink you in.
Drink me in, Navin.
Come feel me tremble at the way you say my name,
say hello, say watermelon.
‘Cause you’ve put more than words onto my tongue—
does it matter if it’s love, or if we’re drunk?
Does it matter if it’s love, or if we’re drunk?
So drink me in; I’ll drink you in.
Drink me in, Navin.
Drink me in, Navin.
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9. |
Knock Wood
03:15
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Once you start running, there’s no way to stop ‘til the luck runs out, and it always does.
You can tap your table, toss your salt,
but there’s never enough wood to knock.
No, there’s never enough wood to knock.
Docile, dull, living the length of a lie.
You burned your truth and you thought you’d fly.
The more you seek, the more you’re caught
and you’ll never be as free as you want.
No, you’ll never be as free as you want.
When you’re driving through the pines and
you feel the wind behind like the dying breath of God,
it feels like flying, there’s no denying the thrill of the red line pushing, pushing, pushing through ‘til you’re shot,
through ‘til you’re shot.
Once you start running, there’s no way to stop
‘til the luck runs out, and it always does.
You can tap your table, toss your salt,
but there’s never enough wood to knock.
No, there’s never enough wood to knock.
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10. |
Crossing Carvin Creek
05:10
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How can we sing the songs of the mountains when the mountains have been rolled flat? Get out of the morning, get out of the night, get into the car and drive past all that.
The notions we carry, those to which we’re bound
only fuck us up, then they fuck us down, fuck us down.
The reason I’m leaving is the reason I love you:
The man is the voice is the terrain.
You can peel the longing from my neck,
but I know the road I’m to know again.
And I’d renounce me if I were meant to stay.
Make my heart an anchor, and I’ll break away, break away.
I thought I could be still for you in the places where the rivers bruise but love gets so funny when wet.
Love gets so funny when wet.
Love gets so funny when wet and I haven’t got to
the haven’t-gottens yet, so I’m heading west.
And the sky pours love all around me,
oh, but love? Not everyone needs it.
So I’m breaking miles just to say that I can
and to feel the good of leaving—so I’m leaving.
I thought I could be still for you in the places where the rivers bruise but love gets so funny when wet.
Love gets so funny when wet.
Love gets so funny when wet and I haven’t got to
the haven’t-gottens yet, so I’m heading west.
And the sky pours love all around me,
oh, but love? Not everyone needs it.
So I’m breaking miles just to say that I can
and to feel the good of leaving—so I’m leaving.
I thought I could be still for you in the places where the rivers bruise but love gets so funny when wet.
Love gets so funny when wet.
Love gets so funny when wet and I haven’t got to
the haven’t-gottens yet.
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Navin Avenue Tampa, Florida
What if the phoenix doesn't rise, but hits the road? A musical rebirth.
Navin Ave. is music + art + rebirth + the South + the quest to find home, salvation and the real inside.
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