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like this cold april snow

by earl patrick

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1.
when does this end? i think it's overdue. i've grown pretty tired of not being over you. i'm oh so tired of not being over you. if alcohol covered it up, i'd buy myself a still and drink gin until the end of days or maybe tuesday, i could drink gin 'til it killed me i'm so tired of getting in my own way of crying again in this corner cafe and i thought i'd worked through this a long time ago but it keeps hanging on like this cold april snow when does this end? i want to be through. there are so many things that i'd like to do. if i could get out of bed, there'd be so much i could do. and paxil just covered it up. i walked around numb for months. and i didn't feel stupid, i only felt dumb. you said i'd feel better, but i only felt numb. i'm so tired of getting in my own way of crying again in this corner cafe and i thought i'd worked through this a long time ago but it keeps hanging on like this cold april snow i'm so tired of feeling tired of being on trial every time i close my eyes and i'm so tired of my own excuses for my lack of purpose and you can fail if you don't try i'm so tired of the math in my head of how many records would i have to sell to pay my rent and i'm so tired of my own voice of being my own whipping post just once i want to feel brilliant. i'm so tired of getting in my own way of crying again in this corner cafe and i thought i'd worked through this a long time ago but it keeps hanging on like this cold april snow
2.
do you remember the night we climbed the hill on the north side of town, the palest of night skies shining on our young skin? you held me like a brother and never asked me how, because we knew tomorrow'd never come again. i was the best thing in your life, and you just let me go. are you stupid or narcissistic? maybe it's both. you pointed at the august moon, and you said that it was ours. i believed you, but what a stupid thing for me to do. i should have known you were telling lies. i could always tell when you told me the truth. i was the best thing in your life, and you just let me go. are you stupid or narcissistic? maybe it's both. sometime between who we were then and who we have become, tomorrow crept in like the rain in the night. i haven't thought about that old hill in years. i'm forgetting the best times of your life. i was the best thing in your life, and you just let me go. are you stupid or narcissistic? maybe it's both.
3.
brakeman turn your head and look the other way. i've got a boxcar dream and a flatbed hope; i need to get away. it's raining again and my money's gone. i've got my soul, is that enough? the rails are wet, my hair is a mess; i don't think i can keep playing tough. i've got to go, this town is drowning me. i've got to go, it's time for me to leave. i've got a bottle of wine and a flask of scotch, so i've got everything i need. i don't look back. i don't turn around. i've no one left to please. a weak heart and a strong back are all i have to offer them, and at the end of the line if i'm not what they need, then i'm back at the start again. i've got to go, this town is drowning me. i've got to go, it's time for me to leave. brakeman lend me your hand; slow down, let me catch up. i've been running for days, chasing your trail, i'm sure i've done enough. i can see the steam and i can hear the wheels, but i can't find my way off the ground. so brakeman please lend me your hand; this town is dragging me down. i've got to go, this town is drowning me. i've got to go, it's time for me to leave.
4.
julia, i like your smile, and i think your eyes are even darker than mine. i love that you drink coffee the way that some people drink wine, and i was wondering if you'd like to go out on friday night. but i don't know what you'd say, and i'm a touch gun shy these days. julia, i like your laugh; it makes me smile just thinking about it. so call me if you want to walk out in the rain or maybe go to ellis island for the day. but i don't know what you'd say, and i'm a touch gun shy these days. so julia, have a happy birthday. i hope the cats have let you sleep nice and late, and that tonight, you go out and find yourself the greatest steak in new york.
5.
six train at five a.m., four stops until i reach the end. three months, two days and one long hour until i see you again. up a flight of icy stairs, it's a colder thinner atmosphere. every breath's a question; what the hell am i doing here? all signs point to providence. i have never been to rhode island, but i'm starting to believe there's a place in my life where everything is safe and quiet. now i've met isaac's angel, and he always comes at night and tells me everything i'm doing wrong with my life. i can't sleep when i think too much. i can't think when i dream of love. if i can't forgive myself for what i've done, i'll have no one left to trust. all signs point to providence. i have never been to rhode island, but i'm starting to believe there's a place in my life where everything is safe and quiet. so now it's thirty-five-thousand feet and flying through a thin dark sky, and i am thinking about my life on the ground; thinking about how it all went down. i must be the luckiest boy alive. i've got three seats to myself on a beautiful night, and a beautiful life. all signs point to providence. i have never been to rhode island, but i'm starting to believe there's a place in my life where everything is safe and quiet.
6.
sometimes i think about dyeing my hair, sometimes i just think about dying. everyday i'm more bitter and jaded, but each one that goes by your memory's fading to nothing i believed in was true. i guess that's what i learned from you. everyday i turn more green with envy, but i'm sure i remember that you used to love me sometimes. i think about you, and i know that you don't; i know that you don't. sometimes i think about you; how you stood in the door when i watched you go. sometimes i think about you, and i know that you don't; i know that you don't. i can't stop thinking about you; how i stood in the door and watched you go from always to sometimes. sometimes i lie awake mourning you're gone, but that feeling's gone in the morning. everyday i'm a little bit stronger. everyday i move upwards and on towards something i know to be true; i'm much better off without you. everyday there's a moment of doubting, but it only comes up when your memory's around me sometimes. i think about you, and i know that you don't; i know that you don't. sometimes i think about you; how you stood in the door when i watched you go. sometimes i think about you, and i know that you don't; i know that you don't. i can't stop thinking about you; how i stood in the door and watched you go from always to sometimes. in so many ways, i am so over you, but there are so many ways that my ways are too few. but i swear as i stand i will make it through this thing and i will only remember the way that you kissed me sometimes. i think about you, and i know that you don't; i know that you don't. sometimes i think about you; how you stood in the door when i watched you go. sometimes i think about you, and i know that you don't; i know that you don't. i can't stop thinking about you; how i stood in the door and watched you go from always to sometimes.
7.
new york doesn't feel like home, but nowhere now will ever feel like home. everywhere i go i see your ghost, and i'm just skin stretched over bone. i let you get to me. now you've slipped away, and i'm this empty love with this numbing weight. you were intoxicating. i'm asphyxiating. i'm taking long walks in the park alone, and i'm wishing you were here to walk me home. but i've got no home to go to now, just this empty room with its empty view because the skyline's missing - much the way that i am missing you. i woke up cold this morning; this bed is much too big. mother, if you only knew the mess that i am in. you say 'keep your chin up.' dad says 'keep your head down.' no wonder i'm always lost; i'm staring at the sky or at the ground. and i'm taking long walks in the park alone, and i'm wishing you were here to walk me home. but i've got no home to go to now, just this empty room with its empty view because the skyline's missing - much the way that i am missing you. i miss you. i'm sorry. why not me?
8.
rain makes jewels on the windshield. i feel the emptiness in the passenger seat. i lay my head back and close my eyes; i let god steer for awhile. three o’clock in the morning isn’t the morning, i’ve woken up in the middle of the night. i’m cruising down through the middle of nowhere. trees hang over the road in the dark. the radio plays a sad song. i can’t seem to find another kind. i guess i don’t really care though; it kind of fits my mood anyway. the sun climbs up on it’s elbows and stares down at me from the end of the road. but i prefer the sunset to the sunrise, and it should always be watched from the shore. i pull the car off on the shoulder, because i’ve nowhere left to go. i’ve escaped the things i left behind, but i’ve forgotten just what they were. the trees have given way to desert. it’s never colder here than at the dawn. the ice is clinging to the sagebrush; i cling to memories of things that never really happened. and i watch the needle cross the center. i watch the fading city lights in the rear view mirror. the needle’s headed towards empty; when it gets there, it’s pointing at me.
9.
upper west side and the christmas lights are up despite that it’s january twenty-third and it seems absurd, but i’m new york to see a girl. i’m not one to go halfway (you just end up in ohio), new york, hong kong, l.a., how could i live in toledo? so thanks for the being the lower east side and showing me what’s been missing from my life. i would move for love or snow, but i’m so glad you don’t live in ohio. the sky was a perfect pale ice blue, but now it’s turned into leak light gray and only my lips are pale ice blue; is it always this cold in the winter here? it’s so dry i shock everything i touch and i can see it in your eyes. but i’ve never been afraid of much, and i’m not scared of a little ice. so thanks for the being the lower east side and showing me what’s been missing from my life. i would move for love or snow, but i’m so glad you don’t live in ohio. so new york, new york i’m on my way because i don’t speak mandarin, and i don’t like l.a. new york, new york i’m on my way, because all i can say is xie-xie; and i don’t like l.a. much. so thanks for the being the lower east side and showing me what’s been missing from my life. i would move for love or snow, but i’m so glad you don’t live in ohio.
10.
jessie's got her black spoon; the river in her mind is dry. if you asked she wouldn't tell the truth. she thinks she understands the sky. her dress is sewn from eggshells. her hands are holding up the sun. she hears the ringing of the bells and breathes the sound into her lungs. she breathes the sound into her lungs. she sees the meaning in the marchers drums. she feels the earth as it comes undone. she touches love to become numb. jessie's got her razorblade; she cuts a dark spot from the earth. she puts it in her blue suitcase, discovering what a fool is worth. she tastes the acrid flowers there and drives the thorn into her thumbs. her blood turns red as it hits the air. she smells the iron from her smoking gun. she smells the iron from her smoking gun. she sees the meaning in the marchers drums. she feels the earth as it comes undone. she touches love to become numb. she's crossing the sun.

about

as soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
- shakespeare

credits

released April 26, 2012

written and performed by earl patrick
engineered by same
mixed by keiffer infantino at burn the sails, nashville tn
mastered by carl saff at saff mastering, chicago il

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earl patrick Portland, Oregon

Songwriter, composer & multi-instrumentalist Earl Patrick has been quietly making independent records for over 20 years. For a sample of suggested listening: Four phases (classical piano) | I'll call you when i touch back down (bedroom pop) | songs from a blue room (indie rock - solo guitar & voice) ... more

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