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remembering Scott

by Siena Christie

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1.
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
2.
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
3.
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

about

three songs dedicated to the memory & family of Scott Rosenfeld, my father-in-law.

half of proceeds from purchases of this album will be donated to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network (pancan.org).

credits

released November 9, 2021

all songs written, performed, & produced by Siena Christie.
recorded at Dignified Deathlings Studio (a.k.a. Siena's music room).
tracks 1 & 3 mastered by Matt Greco at The Rye Room.
track 2 mastered by Siena Christie.
released with permission from the Hertafeld family.

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Siena Christie Asheville, North Carolina

love songs about dead things

dead songs about love things

thing songs about dead love

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