Songwriter/producer in The Okay Lakes
lyrics
Let a light down through the clouds I swore this storm would break by now It billows and it drums But nothing ever comes And my heart is wearing out Beaten like a cornered mouse Hoping for a sign A peace I just can’t find What if nothing ever
lyrics
It’s the 42nd parallel But half of this bar They talk like they’re from somewhere else With a fake southern drawl It’s like I turned the AM dial Sliding through to get a beer I’ll stick around a little while But I don’t wanna be
lyrics
I hear the drum of a desperate moth Caught in the screen and glass The streetlights reach in through the curtain cloth Stretching the shadows cast We pick ourselves from the city’s teeth Throw some worn-out record on And each of our breaths is deafening In the silence between
lyrics
Do those sirens always blow? Did this time bomb finally explode? They want you all in cities now Herded on the coasts The center cannot hold And you’ll be armed with nothing but your conscience when it goes If you make it out you can stay with me, yeah
lyrics
The ninth drink delivers The lines you've prewritten And a voice like yours admits no wrong I swirl the ice inside my glass Drowning out the very last words I should say I guess that Everybody’s got a trusty lie they tell We fool ourselves with our
lyrics
All the trees flail their skeleton hands Warning us to double back We trudge through the boot prints Strangers cut through this And make it out in someone else’s tracks Gentler weather held you together But this rough stretch rends your seams The sidewalks go jagged And the highways
lyrics
Your sleeveless heart It starts its fire for the night Kindles its conviction with some lines From books you’ve barely put a crease in You’re in the dark And all lit up on your father’s gin You nihilist, you feel no consequence Of needing nothing to believe
A Cross on a Gravel Road
I said ‘Elizabeth, I know You can’t wait to get out of here But I bet you look back when you’re leaving’ We were the lone lights on the road Drifting over county lines A bottle at our feet She said ‘I know this place too well to
The Okay Lakes
The 12-song LP is a cinematic soundtrack to a night drive on the patchy back roads of a sprawling Midwest soundscape, out where the county lines of baroque folk, art rock, and Americana meet.
The Okay Lakes
Hear the title track off the album (out next week!)
Portfolio
How to hack the Big Game with a football season finale watch party at Rob Gronkowski's house
The Okay Lakes
A simple, windswept, string-laden guitar tune that sounds best when played with frost-bitten fingers