Sunday Morning, at a Funeral

Sunday Morning still
laid innocent in sheets,
barely half asleep.
Sunday Morning I was dreaming I was turning from a busy street
into a parking lot.

Sunday Morning broke
and dragged me out of bed,
slightly less asleep.
Sunday Morning I was warming all the cold parts of my head
in cups and coffee pots.

In the Winter I wonder
what it’s like to be anywhere else,
to be anywhere but here.
If I leave and don’t return I hope the factories get full
of people making furniture, with
the river running clear.

Sunday Morning fell
apart and back to sleep,
where I was running late,
where I looked out of place.
Sunday Morning pace of steady, nervous feet
headed for the church doors.

Sunday Morning dressed
in suits and shades of black.
Sunday Morning soft in Sunday best.
Sunday someone’s never coming back here
to this place anymore.

In the Winter I wonder
what it’s like to be anywhere else,
to be anywhere but here.
If I leave and don’t return I hope the factories get full
of people making furniture, with
the river running clear.

Sunday Morning stared
at rows of crowded pews.
Half or all asleep,
looking for a seat.
Sunday Morning waiting for a call from you
but didn’t hear my phone ring.

Sunday Morning had
to sit and watch you bawl.
Sunday Morning left the ringer off.
Sunday Morning missed it when you called and
couldn’t do a thing
but watch.

In the Winter I wonder what it’s like to be where you are.
In the Winter I wonder what it’d be like if you were still here.
Would the factories fill?
Would the river run clear?
Would the river run?

Sunday Morning dreamt
about a moment passed,
about a time I failed.
Sunday Morning I was staring at a clock, trying to push it back.
Sunday Morning wished to be a kid.

Sunday Morning shook
me all the way awake.
Stirred me from the dream.
Sunday Morning I was thinking of a phone call I should make
but never did.
I never did.

The Worth of the World.

Here goes with a long overdue lyrics post (to our side of a split 7″ with our friends in Touche Amore–out today, officially):

How I Feel and Why It Scares Me

I say a drink might help me sleep, I say

I don’t sleep much at all these days, I say it’s cold, 

Besides, I’m broken.

Hard as earth the love of the past,

The worth of the world has frozen

Still.

Like the sheet of ice collecting on the windshield of my car.

Where I caught my reflection frozen in the glass,
A perfect broken image of the future I’d envisioned in the past–

Corrupted by fate now, fractured, and fading away.

Replace all I felt promised to me.

To be the one who figured it out,

Who knew what to do,

Who knew how to feel and

Felt that

Love of the past,

The worth of the world,

Just set it ablaze and

Thaw me out.

Dim lit in a room dark red, where I said,

“Can’t seem to break off from the way I felt, but

I guess you understand, man. We had no chance.

I’m tired of fighting with the hand I’ve been dealt.

So, I take the cards they give me

And keep my protest on the inside of my mouth.

If the best I can do ain’t gonna stop what’s coming,

What’s the point in trying to change how the hand plays out?

Don’t we all just die?

When you looked at the light

Did it hurt your eyes?

When you looked at the light

Did it hurt you

Like it hurt me?

 

***

At times I’ve shouted out unprovoked, at the world and you,

Just to see if the people around me react.

Sometimes I think they’re all acting,

At times I’m scared that I’m acting too. Like,

My movements or stage directions?

Was that a change in topic or a beat in a scene?

Have I been taking my emotional cues from a script I wrote at sixteen?

Maybe I just think about it all so much 
That that the fear stays close to all the ghosts I’ve touched.
Makes me question

Was it love or just lust?

Caked in blood or old rust?

I don’t know. 

Don’t we remember all the moments we remember the best

Framed in poems and in pictures, sang aloud in refrains?

Does this cycle of pain and disdain for the past

Not work exactly the same?

Maybe it’s just as much about what comes our way as it is about how we react.

Just as much about the things that we’ve still got as it is about the things we lack.

I know we won’t always keep around all we feel we need–

some are fading in frames, some were born to leave–

But if we’re still here, and we still breathe,

I guess we’ve still got time to figure it out,

To know what to do, 

To know how to feel,

Know the things that I’ve been making up inside my head, and

To know what’s real.

I want to believe that the way I am is just the way things go.

For the things that came, not the things I chose 

to come. 

I want to know if I had any control.

I want to know if it’d comfort me.

And if my heart just stops, pack my memories in it–

I want to know all the love I’ve got.

And if my heart just stops, keep me alive for a minute–

I want to know if a curtain drops.

(end scene. or fin. or something)

Mostly, I hope this finds you all well. More, unrelated (or mostly unrelated, at least), soon.

yrs, Jordan.

thank you.

thank you.
thank you.
and again, thank you.

like jordan mentioned before, the two weeks prior to 2010 were spent working on here, hear III and setting up a proper system to donate its proceeds to wellhouse grand rapids. we left for tour shortly after and weren’t quite sure what to expect.

we’re very happy to report that with your generous donations $1,915.44 was collected for wellhouse.

please take a moment to check out wellhousegr.org and see where your money is going. they’re doing amazing things.

the folks at wellhouse and ourselves appreciate these donations more than we are capable of putting into words. it’s incredibly  humbling to see a community of people come together in a time when money is so tight, and still manage to give. so thank you. so much.

now:

I feel as though another thank you is in order to our friends in grand rapids.
it’s been a long time hasn’t it? yup, it has. too long. thank you for your patience and understanding while we sorted out a space to play. so now, at last, here we go:

March 5th, 2010 at The Ladies Literary Club in Grand Rapids, MI.
61 Sheldon Boulevard Southeast
Grand Rapids, MI 49503

tickets are available through the calvin box office.
we’re going to get a lot of people involved and make this thing very special for you all. you deserve it. lots more information in the next couple days, stay tuned.

like vass mentioned below, one song is complete for a split we’re doing with our dear friends in touche amore. started on the second tonight. feels so good. hello 2010.

love you all.

and again, thank you so much.

-bradley