All Too Mid-January
from Broken Crescent by Jak Locke
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lyrics
There's another derelict along the highway
Whispering gently into Van Gogh's ear
Anti-fashion scars on the cadaver
That occupies the space my soul has cleared
Now you can feel the moans from all the pitied wastelands
You can lean your head and taste the bitter wind
You can substitute your fields of gold for plywood
You can fool yourself into believing you're there again
Some orchestra of sea-sick demon railmen
Scores the setting close behind the gate
In the midst of all the statuesque regalia
To drown would be a pleasure far too great
Believe them that your words'll make a difference
Wonder if the last word gives you power
Let me tell you if you think that it's really gospel
There's sixty just like you born every hour
The supposed independents march their cadence
And flinging all their sense out to the air
They ask me if it even makes a difference
And me I don't even care to care
Now dreams are but a playground for the foolish
Who still believe hope's not a passing fad
Some outlaw marionette behind the alleys
Rusted cords no mind left to go mad
Now Kerouac is plucking the piano strings
As Judas puts his arm around my back
Majestic in the graveyard at my doorstep
My ever-ceasing rest between the cracks
And I alone you can call me Teresius
Because seeing's more right now than I can stand
And I never knew the true meaning of empty
Until nothing's all I could hold in my hand
Whispering gently into Van Gogh's ear
Anti-fashion scars on the cadaver
That occupies the space my soul has cleared
Now you can feel the moans from all the pitied wastelands
You can lean your head and taste the bitter wind
You can substitute your fields of gold for plywood
You can fool yourself into believing you're there again
Some orchestra of sea-sick demon railmen
Scores the setting close behind the gate
In the midst of all the statuesque regalia
To drown would be a pleasure far too great
Believe them that your words'll make a difference
Wonder if the last word gives you power
Let me tell you if you think that it's really gospel
There's sixty just like you born every hour
The supposed independents march their cadence
And flinging all their sense out to the air
They ask me if it even makes a difference
And me I don't even care to care
Now dreams are but a playground for the foolish
Who still believe hope's not a passing fad
Some outlaw marionette behind the alleys
Rusted cords no mind left to go mad
Now Kerouac is plucking the piano strings
As Judas puts his arm around my back
Majestic in the graveyard at my doorstep
My ever-ceasing rest between the cracks
And I alone you can call me Teresius
Because seeing's more right now than I can stand
And I never knew the true meaning of empty
Until nothing's all I could hold in my hand
credits
from Broken Crescent,
released September 22, 2005
Jak Locke: all instruments / vocals
Jak Locke: all instruments / vocals
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Jak Locke New Orleans, Louisiana
Jak Locke is a multi-genre songwriter and performer based in and native to New Orleans, LA.
discography
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Nov 2023 -
Sep 2020 -
Aug 2018 -
Aug 2016
contact / help
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