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about

An early morning swallow makes a nest within my mind
Using sinews from my arms and legs
As I walk nervously down the placid evening hallway
For when land is in sight you just hoist the anchor
While their wives stand on the docks screaming warm embraces
While making no such sounds

Chorus
We dance together above the sea
To the rhythm of the oncoming breeze

But land is not in sight, the sails are tattered and torn
And the anchor has been dead weight
Ever since the fog as lifted
The nightingale sings her last song with a whimpering sigh
That same old swallow brings a letter from home
And the albatross has finally fallen

Chorus
We dance together above the sea
To the rhythm of the oncoming breeze

credits

from The Last Thing You'd Expect, released May 17, 2011
Bury These Old Ghosts

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Bury These Old Ghosts New Jersey

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