(American Trash 2011)

The glockenspiel of the Kevin Siebenaler sets the scene of this song. It appears elsewhere, later, on American Trash. But this song belongs to the glock. Kev, the endless supply of ideas and talent, heard exactly what was in my head and laid it down on record.

Then, in the wake of the sweet sadness of the first couple verses explodes Kyle’s guitar. We had to break this song in half. A Mid-Atlantic Ridge.

Back into the sweetness and Todd plucks a line straight from the mandolin gods. His work on this record cannot be understated.

The couplet…

I guess we all get what’s coming
And we know just where it’s from

Was the truest thing i’d written in my life to this point.

Osceola

You stood screaming on the hardwood
And yea, I wish I could
Take it all back
But we both know that I can’t
Cos I meant it then and I feel it now
But god, I still miss you somehow

I sold you on the night
And you said “Boy I think I just might
Be falling here for you”
And I acted like I never knew
But I knew it then and I feel it now
But god, I still miss you somehow

I guess we all get what’s coming
And we know just where it’s from
So here’s to the sunrise burning in pale blue eyes
And god your hands were so small
I remember it then and I remember it all
I remember it then and I feel it now
But god, I still miss you somehow