1. |
Sleepy Dee
04:27
|
|||
2. |
Balderdash
05:04
|
|||
Weary eyes strain
bleary pictures in my brain
they fog up glasses I don't own
and never owned, I never know
Making heads and tails
I'm flipping coins,
and flipping out of touch
It's such a drag, white flags
are waving in the wind, I'm rambling
on and on
Can you find my meaning?
Can you catch my drift?
Can you tell what I'm feeling?
Oh well, it's all bullshit anyways
|
||||
3. |
||||
4. |
Monochrome
05:33
|
|||
Monochrome the color concept
sits in my dome
like a bug, a drug, a smack of smug
a funeral home for
cheery days, sun rays,
a sweet melodic phrase
sing, sing, it sits softly
simpering and like
clockwork, orange fades to grey
like a steel-plated tiger
ripping feathers off a blue jay
the lights flicker,
I bicker with a man
says color's only rust
on a tin can, and I said whoa
quid pro quo
If my palette's gonna fade
then I don't want to know
so take it slow
turn your tail and go
you can always say I told you so
When I was a young man,
poor man, wise man
digging in the dirt with
wide open wide eyes, man
I was digging the sounds
and the smells, even
holes where tiny little ants dwell
I was a train wreck speck
with a craned neck
checking out the sky
shrinking real time,
blue and white and sublime
amazed, unfazed, unbroken
gaze didn't see the creeping grey haze
and I said whoa
So bleach with me slowly
we'll rust as iron fools
just trust that gathering dust won't fuck with our attitude
So bleach with me slowly
we'll fade from grey to white
just squint and dim the light, we're going blind
Monochrome the color concept
begs me to rest, stop
my mop-top, pop-rock lyrical quest
to keep my color from fading
to the stratosphere
get my back bent, my two cents
out of here
and like birds of a feather,
peas in a pod
I don't know whether we're together
or together at odds
like a six-shot shooting, you're damn tooting
discuss how this head ain't big enough
for just the two of us
and I said whoa
|
||||
5. |
||||
6. |
Paper Cranes
05:08
|
|||
Trickle up my finger tips
Round my head, out my lips
Can't say what I want to mean
and can't mean what I want to say
There's a sun shower, flower
and hour alone, in this my mind my home
There is a fine line, a minus sign
between meaning, feeling, that's where I
Where I dangle
And I can't hold on, to purpose anymore
My thoughts they fold themselves
to tiny paper cranes
and fly away
Marks on the page are meaningless,
a scabbed and withered dress for cliches
They knock at the windows, scratch at the door
paper tiger tanks in a cold war
They dream of escape, I dream a theme
a stream of unconciousness
fly little paper wings, I cling, they sting
slip out the cracks in my walls
Sometimes, with a flutter and a spark
paper cranes ignite
and sometimes, in a crooked spiral arc
ashes float away
|
||||
7. |
Quinate
04:36
|
|||
Does it really matter?
|
Keith Fontaine
I am a guitarist, bassist, singer, songwriter, arranger, engineer, and producer.
Streaming and Download help
Keith Fontaine recommends:
If you like Keith Fontaine, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp