Nestled in the lakeside sand,
he's homeless through addiction of the heart
He never got to know the land,
hitching up clydesdales behind the cart
He found the great wide open,
and he's sad to say it looks like Bryant Park
The book that keeps him cold at night,
the one about the recluse in the rye,
you kill 'em, kid, you hold the line
somewhere between sorrow and delight
Well, he never met the author
but he knows somehow the end is plagiarized
He hopes the point of no return
is somewhere on the route he's taking back
And he hopes that all the laudanum burns
are just to slap the face of all the facts
He found the great oasis
but she takes such pride in showing what he lacks
I never had the heart it took
to sound the soaring song of all the choirs
And I never had the energy
to sweep up after all my funeral pyres
I miss you, Carrie Fisher
and the way you always looked so goddam tired
I totaled Jake LaMotta's car
thinking about the fixes and the dives
I regret regrets just as they are
fighting toward the edge of being edgewise
I never miss the violence
but knowing I could take a punch was nice
They like to say with open arms
that free air takes the measure of a man
smeared upon an old frontier
free soil on the back of someone's hand
I found the great wide open
and the fences stretch on farther than the land
credits
from Never Met The Author,
released August 6, 2015
written and performed by Chance Solem-Pfeifer
drums and bass by Jeremy Wurst
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