1. |
call your dad (acoustic)
02:30
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don't fold the laundry
don't pay the rent
don't put away the Christmas gifts your mother sent
don't check your inbox
don't make the bed
don't you ignore that nagging voice inside your head
just call your dad
just call your dad
unpacking boxes, I stumbled on
photos he took of you way back when you were young
I know it's hard to think what to say
besides how are you, sure hope the kids are doing great
just call your dad
just call your dad
don't be ashamed now
there is no blame
none of us ever saw it coming anyway
you've got his nature
those dreaming eyes
maybe he doesn't even know how much you've cried
just call your dad
just call your dad
someday we'll know how much time we had
just call your dad
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2. |
digging for gold
05:22
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out your window were seven parked cars
pots and pans under crooks of arms
word got out, and everyone ran to your side
in the midst of this gold rush, the still small hiss
of fresh new oxygen crossing your carpet
feeding your fire, oh, forty-niner,
did you get enough time?
woke up for a nice long while and took a few good sips
from a cool drink of water we held to your lips
all we are is star-eyed sinners
digging for gold in a long, wide river
against the dying light of day
you’ll forever be standing right there
leaning precarious against an old chair
sorting through photographs, oh, camera man,
did you get enough time?
were there pictures in your mind's eye from years yet unlived
when you stopped asking God if He’s got more to give?
just count your blessings; better yet, count the frames
around canyons and sunsets and campfire games
’cause all we are is star-eyed sinners
digging for gold in a long, wide river
against the dying light of day
with our hands cupped tight, man, we’re just poor beggars
digging for gold, learning as we go
to make peace with what slips through our fingers
and what remains
some dark morning we’ll get in our cars, drive you
out to the riverbed, just like you’ve asked us to
wondering, could we ever get enough time?
by then you’ll have made your way far from the ground
but if, for a moment, you were to look down
you’d see all we are is star-eyed sinners
digging for gold in a long, wide river
against the coming light of day
with our hands cupped tight, man, we're just poor beggars
digging for gold, learning as we go
to make peace with what slips through our fingers
and what remains
learning as we go
to make peace with what slips through our fingers
and what remains
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3. |
my dad was someone else
04:50
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Rosie lies awake in bed
holding a picture of her dad
the very last time she held his hand
was four on Monday morning
there’s a crumpled paper and a ballpoint pen
she wants to say, here lies a man
who found what he was looking for
in the time that he was given
she looks back at what she’s written and shakes her head
what will people think if she reads them what it says?
it says,
my dad would often lose his keys
he was always chasing a different dream
if I’m gonna paint him, I’m gonna paint him true
he had a wandering soul and twinkling eyes
it’s amazing to me that at fifty-five
he was still the little kid I always knew
oh, my dad was someone else
and I wish all of you could’ve known him like I do
Rosie’s phone begins to ring
her stepmom needs some help with things
there’s a thousand photos to sort through
and a tripod up for the taking
so Rosie comes over and finds that pic
from summer '06 as the clouds rolled in
her mom was screaming, her dad was on top of the car
with the lightning blazing
it's the coolest picture her eyes have ever seen
makes her think about the words she’s scared to read
saying,
my dad would often lose his keys
he was always chasing a different dream
if I’m gonna paint him, I’m gonna paint him true
he had a wandering soul and twinkling eyes
it’s amazing to me that at fifty-five
he was still the little kid I always knew
oh, my dad was someone else
and I wish all of you could’ve known him like I do
t minus ten, she finds her seat
dressed in black, everyone she greets
says, Rose, your smile looks so much like his
when he was twenty-four like you
now she steps up there and leans into the mic
she says, my dad was someone else, and let me tell you why
yes, my dad would often lose his keys
he was just so busy teaching me
to keep an open mind and an eye out for the truth
he read me picture books when I was three
and the thought of him gone just wrecks me
because he’s the kindest man I ever knew
oh, my dad was someone else
and I wish all of you could’ve known him like I do
yes, my dad was someone else
and I wish all of you could’ve known him like I do
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Siena Christie Asheville, North Carolina
love songs about dead things
dead songs about love things
thing songs about dead love
what
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