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1. |
Counting the Cars
04:17
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I was born and I’ll die, sentenced to life. I’ll do as much time as I can. A cage painted white holds as much hope as a wedding dress wrapped in barbed wire. If I free my mind, I’d thumb a ride with each car that comes into view. Imagine a road that goes anywhere! And I just wanna go home. An hour every day, every day of the week, rain, shine, or Texarkana heat. My time is told watching the road, counting the cars go by. I wake up and eat, work, and then sleep, and suffer the space in between. I may dare to dream, but nothing good grows in a garden of steel and concrete. No letters, no calls, no one at all since mama must’ve passed away. If only I knew that restless and bored weren’t the worst things a kid can go through. An hour every day, every day of the week, rain, shine, or Texarkana heat. My time is told watching the road, counting the cars go by. Sometimes I pray I’m treated the same as an old pair of leather boots. ‘Cause even a shoe gets a new sole when the old one’s been worn through. An hour every day, every day of the week, rain, shine, or Texarkana heat. My time is told, watching the road, counting the cars go by.
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2. |
Breaker, Breaker
03:42
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I thought of you when I saw the smallest flower, petals pursed and blue. Lightning strikes, smoke spirals, a soft hum wrapped around cosmic wire that connects me to you. Can you feel it, too? Oh, my satellite, carry these words like wishes on a shooting star. Oh, my radio, how far can I go before I lose this signal in the dark that connects me to you? Can you feel it, too? Breaker, breaker, one, two, three. I’m calling out for you to call back to me. If all it takes is a reverie, when I think of you, you’ll think of me. I thought of you in the dense fog of night and cast a light out to the sea. Does it beckon over, does it warn against? On wavelengths from ship to shore. Our signals crossed. My message lost. Breaker, breaker, one, two, three. I’m calling out for you to call back to me. If all it takes is a reverie, when I think of you, you’ll think of me. The mattress sags from what I’ve laid to rest. I’m lonely lying next to someone else. Shadows form in the passive morning light, there’s more silence than sound, more chaff than tender root, can you feel it, too? Breaker, breaker, one, two, three. I’m calling out for you to call back to me.
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3. |
Magnolia
03:07
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Sugar tree, sugar tree. Clean, sweet, sugar tree. Glossy smile so pristine. Sipping juleps in the shade, forget what’s been swept away. You know only what’s evergreen. When the fog rolls in along the levee, summer sends a shiver and brings you to your knees. That’s the wild catching you. Oh, Magnolia, you wouldn’t believe me if I told ya. Oh, Magnolia, oh. Anchor line falling down, falling down. Drifting on a gentle breeze. Reel it in, pull it tight, tiptoe to the other side, wrap me in a silken tapestry. Frost falls, winter’s dressed in lace. When you feel a little whisper dance across your face, that’s the wild catching you. Oh, Magnolia, you wouldn’t believe me if I told ya. Oh, Magnolia, you’ll find beauty where you never thought it’d be. Oh me, oh my, you’re pretty! But it’s not the flower that impresses me. It’s what the spider’s spinning behind petals and leaves. Oh, Magnolia, you wouldn’t believe me if I told ya. Oh, Magnolia, you’ll find beauty where you never thought it’d be.
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4. |
Hold the Line
04:03
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The guns are still, and the dead remain. The buzzards swarm where the children play searching for souvenirs. No time to mourn when the new day comes. Like the essence of coffee in my cup, I’m still warm, but hollow. Hold the line on the high road. Hold with a patience for polish and protest. Hold the line with full devotion. In the ashes, the heart’s a precious stone. Politicians pray, but they will not listen. On their collars, are pins and ribbons, paper proof of our tears. Our calls for help, and our cries of pain. We raise our arms, but for a warm embrace. Now my friend, the enemy. Hold the line on the high road. Hold with a patience for polish and protest. Hold the line with full devotion. In the ashes, the heart’s a precious stone. We swing and step in good company, but the road is long, longer than it seems. I’ll live these days the rest of my years. I may tire, but I won’t disappear. I’m a stone that paves the way. Hold the line on the high road. Hold with a patience for polish and protest. Hold the line with full devotion. In the ashes, the heart’s a precious stone.
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5. |
Crossroads
03:39
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My heart’s held out like a lantern in the night. Dreams burn with kerosene to cast a shaft of light, but I summon from the shadows a fear that keeps me paralyzed. I can’t stay. I can’t go. The middle of a maze with a broken compass rose. The stars are dark. The wind is slow. I’m standing on the crash course, crossroads. I walked each mile with the map you made for me. If I blamed you now I’d forget I took each step willingly. I know what could have been, it’s what will never be. I can’t stay. I can’t go. The middle of a maze with a broken compass rose. The stars are dark. The wind is slow. I’m standing on the crash course, crossroads. I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t want to be where I am now. I never turned a corner, but somehow, I got turned around. I can’t stay. I can’t go. The middle of a maze with a broken compass rose. The stars are dark. The wind is slow. I’m standing on the crash course, crossroads.
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6. |
The Republican River
04:17
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I heard about the legend from before the dawn of man. When through the river valley giants roamed the land. They came, they saw, they conquered. They defied the gods above. They tried to tame the river, stood proud in the mud. ’Til the rains came. I smelled the dust storm comin’ ‘fore I saw the red sun rise. ‘Twas the blackest Sunday morning nineteen thirty-five. I wondered what we had done, was this God or the devil's plan? Dust so thick it filled our lungs, we’s drowning on dry land. ’Til the rains came. They said the worst was over, but the worst was yet to come. Every drop we’d prayed for together came as one. I watched the waters rising, we held on for our dear lives. A mother’s grip is no match for rivers gone mad. They said the crops would follow if machines replaced the plow. ‘Cause man can change the weather tearing up the ground. We made those metal monsters, never hungry, never tired. Cultivated disaster with progress and pride. ‘Til the rains came. How did this stream break its banks like a fever in the night? Tamarisk and olive trees choked that river dry. We push too hard and take too much, will we ever heed the call? When the water rises up even giants fall.
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7. |
When the Harvest Comes
04:08
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Dust bowl days and desperation. Last chance land rush. Grifters cheated for a quick buck, turnin’ fertile ground to dust. Notes are posted for my neighbors, ‘cause the bank foreclosed their land. Some lost their minds to madness, others left by their own hand. Thoughts and prayers, dust on my tongue. Next year’s the one, when the harvest comes. I am just a poor girl tryin’. I have no hour to spare. Every year gets a little harder when the drought strips you bare. Heartbreak is the cattle cryin’. They’re as close to me as kin. How long must I learn from losing? How long ’til it rains again? Thoughts and prayers, dust on my tongue. Next year’s the one, when the harvest comes. I never tire of dreamin’, weather willing, prices high. I wanna feel the hunger, not this pain I got inside. Thoughts and prayers, dust on my tongue. Next year’s the one, when the harvest comes.
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8. |
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I was potent once, full-bodied and robust. I was a rebel with a minor chord and shined like a pantsuit playboy. Took my aim and always found the mark on beer bottles and broken hearts. Payday was party time down at the Whispering Pines. True love was written on the wall in the backroom of Freedom’s pool hall. They weigh the same, there’s no difference in the dark ‘tween beer bottles and broken hearts. Beer bottles and broken hearts. Time has turned me into something that I’m not. Beer bottles and broken hearts. Living the dream on a losing streak. Moving faster than time’s inevitable creep. A heart and a fist accessorized my sleeve—a grand gesture for whatever tempted me. I stood my ground where it always falls apart with beer bottles and broken hearts. Beer bottles and broken hearts. Time has turned me into something that I’m not. Beer bottles and broken hearts. Don’t let the smooth taste fool ya. When morning comes, I’m so tired of beer bottles and broken hearts. Time has turned me into something that I’m not. Beer bottles and broken hearts.
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9. |
Wide Awake at Midnight
04:26
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Storm clouds gather to the west. Signal’s lost on the radio. Warning lights say I need to rest. Headlights have turned to halos. Stop for coffee and gasoline. Walk the aisles for no regrets. Bought a back-up plan for 20 bucks of shoestrings and cigarettes. If I’m to Sanderson before I lose the light, I’ll feel pretty certain I’ll make it home tonight. The needle’s in the red. There’s a long road ahead of me. I’m hoping that I make it. Hope is all I have for strategy. But I’m reckless not to risk it, I never cared for what I should. I’m wide awake at midnight, I never felt so good. I turned off my dashboard lights. When the moon was hanging low. So, I could trace the blue silhouette of the Sangre de Christos. Time’s a thief that loves to lie in wait. Tonight, I’ll steal some back ‘fore it catches my mistakes. The needle’s in the red. There’s a long road ahead of me. I’m hoping that I make it. Hope is all I have for strategy. But I’m reckless not to risk it, I never cared for what I should. I’m wide awake at midnight, I never felt so good. Moving fast but sitting still. I don’t know what’s lost or gained. Is it tomorrow or today? I’ve lost so many hours playing it safe. The needle’s in the red. There’s a long road ahead of me. I’m hoping that I make it. Hope is all I have for strategy. But I’m reckless not to risk it, I never cared for what I should. I’m wide awake at midnight, I never felt so good.
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Hardened and Tempered Austin, Texas
Hardened and Tempered: hard enough to hold an edge; soft enough not to break. Austin-based duo Kristin Davidson and Carolyn Phillips live that balance and express it in their music. Their songs take root in the story-telling traditions of folk and country and flourish with textured melodies and harmonies, revealing an intimate look at the human condition and one’s search for meaning. ... more
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