Recorded in an 1820's frontier cabin deep in the woods of Virginia's Furnace Mountain, October 2018.
Lyrics
Reawaken the past, now
Drown in all the ways you've missed the mark,
Idle hands in the mid-day light
My scars like the miles on this old guitar,
Hard lines are fadin' and fadin' fast
My heart is singin' like a penned up whippoorwill,
My soul is a shoe box filled with washed out and tattered, yellowed stills
That my memory defies,
From the corner of my eye
Knowin' nothin' of nothin',
Main street sings the hymnal of disgrace
As I feel the tread of the boot on the back of my neck
I think lock stock livin' might be dead and gone,
Hard lines are fadin', they're fadin' still
My heart is singin' like a penned up whippoorwill,
My soul is a shoe box filled with washed out and tattered, yellowed stills
That my memory defies,
From the corner of my eye
My mind's on fire
With the flame they took to the history books,
Idle hands in the darkest night
Cloaked in silence where the poor boys fell and the cannons shook
Hard lines are fadin' and fadin' fast
He hollered for mama in the powder cloud,
He had his daddy in his eyes right before he fell,
He had his living right stripped away,
Now they laid him to rest in the cold Virginia clay
My heart is singin' like a penned up whippoorwill,
My soul is a shoe box filled with washed out and tattered, yellowed stills
That my memory defies,
From the corner of my eye