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Lord, let me suffer / let me suffer and then die / let me walk through silence and leave nothing behind / make the world go on as before / let the ocean keep kissing the shore / let the grass stay green so that frogs can hide there / so that someone can bury his face there and sob out his love / make the day rise brightly as if there were no more pain / and let this song stand clear as a windowpane / bumped by a bumblebee’s head.
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2. |
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It started with fire, the fear that follows me / when you took me as a child to see the charred house down the street I dreamt walls of flame slowly cornered me / as they touched me, I woke up / I was fearless until you made me afraid / I started locking my favorite toys in the fireproof safe.
I was pretty young when you told me the truth / you said, “There are men who want to hurt girls like you” / then I dreamt two tall men came into my room, gagged me, and dragged me away in a van / I was fearless until you made me afraid / I started packing a Smith & Wesson and pepper spray.
I loved you more than I loved my own life / when I realized you could easily die I dreamt I sat on the edge of a deep and narrow pit / looking down into darkness with no end / I was fearless until you made me afraid / I’ve locked everything of value away / I was fearless until you made me afraid / now just look at all the trouble you’ve made.
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3. |
All I Can Say
02:59
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Come on, get out of bed / I know you’ve imagined the icy weight of that snub-nose steel on your forehead / I know you’ve eyed the double line, thought how easy it’d be / a twitch of the finger, a tilt of the wheel on the drive home last night / saying, “Oh, what do I do? What do I do?” / Hey, I say it too.
Talk about the black-eyed dog / its faithful weight on your chest / the velvet pressure that pins you down but never lets you rest / or how you feel hunted like prey / so paralyzed, so afraid you could be cut by a flash of claws and carried away / saying, “Oh, what do I do? What do I do?” / Hey, I say it too.
You can lie broken on I-94 / you can fly open in the dark of your second-story bedroom / or you can let yourself down gently / you can rest your weight on me / don’t you dare go easy / oh, what do I do? What do I do? / Hey, that’s all I can say.
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4. |
Too Much Mine
03:52
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I know this place too well now / I’ve stretched to fit its frame / I’ve stuck like a clog in the neck of a drain, there’s no leaving the way that I came / the audible quiet at night / the wind leaning hard on the walls / the way I still sleep on my side of the bed and hope someone and no one will call / too much mine / too much mine / I trace and trace over their lines / I trace and trace over their lines.
The bruises I don’t remember getting / the veins that show through my arms / the baffling way the shallowest cut can become the oldest of scars / too much mine / too much mine / I trace and trace over their lines / I trace and trace over their lines.
So I wake and I work and I weary / as coffee and whiskey keep time / like a piano you pay to have taken away / like dust hardened on the blinds / don’t “oh honey” me and don’t ask me what’s wrong / let me lengthen like shadows grow long / here for a while / then gone.
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5. |
Little Warning
03:33
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I like to know where I’ll be before I’m there / I’d rather pack all my things for nothing but be prepared / like facing backwards on trains with our necks craned / can’t see what’s coming til it’s here for two seconds and it shrinks til it’s gone / and it’s here for two seconds and it shrinks til it’s gone / give me a head start, some kind of sign I’ll take any kind / a map, a twitch before the slap / give me a little warning / give me a little warning, would you / give me a little warning / give me a little warning would you / give me an excuse to come back some other time when I can handle bad news?
I spend all of this time looking back into the long distance / feeling the eyes of all the things I can’t see that give me resistance / all of the things I can’t see that see me / all of the things I can’t see that see me / maybe they know when it’s the last time / but everything moves so fast I don’t know til it’s already passed / til it’s already passed / til it’s already passed / give me a little warning / give me a little warning, would you / give me a little warning / give me a little warning, would you / give me an excuse to come back some other time when I can handle bad news?
Give me a suddenly before the verb / a wind-up, a tensed nerve / a tip-off, a long look / a quick curse before the swerve / a flinch before the trigger pull / a deep breath before the word / a stumble before the fall / I’ll take anything / I’ll take anything at all / won’t you give me a little warning / give me a little warning, would you / give me a little warning / give me a little warning, would you / give me a little warning / give me a little warning / ‘cause even though it won’t help to know / it might soften the blow / it might soften the blow / it might soften the blow.
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6. |
I Don't Know
05:11
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My shoulders are broad, I fill out my clothes / I can carry a load, I can clear my own road / but I don’t know where I’m going, barely know where I’ve been / I got nowhere to aim, nothing to spend / and I don’t want to go out, I don’t want to stay here / I got creature needs, I got creature fears / can I laugh at long loneliness, love it like snow left folded in homes by the cold? / Oh, I don’t know.
I'm young and I'm strong, can barely go on / but I own my own home, but I mow my own lawn / I've done nothing grand, nothing as planned / I can close up my fist, can I open my hand and grow old like a gradually loosening grip through which everything slips away? / Oh, I don't know.
I don't want to go out, I don't want to stay here / but I don't know.
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7. |
Year-End Contender
02:46
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I love a lot of things that don’t love me / I’m not the woman that I used to be / more a hunter than a moth to flame / don’t you call me honey, don’t you call me babe / I only answer to my name now / I only answer to my name.
My arms are empty and my hands are bare / I’m pretty sure that I don’t care / too much pressure to have perfect aim / to be strong yet slender, a year-end contender / so I only answer to my name now / I only answer to my name.
You might not know me if we met again / I’ve come farther than I’ve ever been / out beyond the edge of what I claim / past the winter mornings and wide-open spaces where I only answer to my name now / I only answer to my name.
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8. |
Born With Skin
05:08
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I was born with skin that let the world in / so in came sorrow, so in came sin / wore down my wonder, wore it thin / so I curved myself in, glued my knees to my chin / thinned my belly, closed the door / pressed my forehead to the floor / but everything was pretty much the same as the day before / so I pulled myself up / I grew taut and tough / flung my fists and fought to win / wrung my wrists and broke my skin / I spat and swore / but everything was pretty much the same as the day before / so I filled myself out / I grew strong and stout / wore down my days / wore them down, smooth and round / and swallowed them whole / yeah I took control / and wanted more / but everything was pretty much the same as the day before / so I grew skin won’t let anything in / no sorrow / no sin / no wonder to wear thin.
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9. |
Last Safe Distance
03:38
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It was our last safe distance, but we went on anyway / when I left with you in August and gave myself away / and we promised and we swore / wish I did, but I don’t know you anymore.
Together up the mountain our hems brushed holy ground / but you longed for lower places so you didn’t stick around / you know I promised and I swore / wish I did, but I don’t know you anymore.
Back from the land without thunder needing a good storm / needing revelation, an arm to keep me warm / because I promised and I swore / wish I did, but I don’t know you anymore.
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10. |
Downtown Tonight
04:23
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I still have the clothes I was wearing in the crash / the holes in the cotton and my body match / I wore long skirts to hide my wounds / hurt goes and comes back like the moon.
I counted my motions in twenties and tens / I stopped and started and counted again / the daily reminders, the constant climb / it takes so much time, it takes so much time / no I’m not there / no I’m not there / no I’m not there, but I move along / I sing my hymns and I take my pills and I stretch my limbs and I pay my bills.
I found one of your dress shirts in a box of loose ends / that had come all the way back with me to Michigan / I intended to send it back but it sat in a drawer / so now I’m finally taking that thing to the thrift store / you don’t owe me / no you don’t owe me / you don’t owe me, but let me go / I take no shit now, I’m impolite, and if you don’t like me, well that’s all right.
I kept to myself, I stayed out of sight / but I’m getting dressed up and I’m going downtown tonight / gonna see the lights so bright they hurt / gonna cuff my sleeves, and I’m gonna do my work / give it all I got / give it all I got / give it all I got, keep moving along / just a little of this and a little of that / wash in the Jordan and pick up your mat / no guarantees it’ll even come to that.
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11. |
Rolling Slow
04:52
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The note he left when he left me is ash long burned and blown away / yeah I saw it open like a leaf / then I saw it curl like a vine / and burst like a flower in July / some things are beautiful when they die.
Now I don’t have a lot to say, I just want to notice things / wondering along the way whatever this life brings / rolling slow, where do I go from here?
The sun set long before the sunset in sky smoke-dark with wildfire / yeah I saw it redden like a cheek / then I saw it widen like a smile / and sink to the mountains like a sigh / some things are beautiful when they die.
Now I don’t have a lot to say, I just want to notice things / wondering along the way whatever this life brings / I’m rolling slow / I’m rolling slow / rolling slow, where do I go from here?
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Allison Van Liere Holland, Michigan
Kinda dark, confessional, feminist folk/rock that takes its coffee black and whiskey neat.
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