when talk becomes spit
and books turn back to trees
you get used it
like a dog with the fleas
it's been a numbers game so far
is that supposed to calm you down
they keep a running tab
and add it up when you're not around
take the folks with your last name
subtract the ones you've never met
divide by those whom you've betrayed
times the ones you can't forget
that's everybody who's gonna cry when you're dead
when all's said and done only their eyes will be wet and red
were you worth the money, the time, the pain, and the song
would they have loved you had they known you'd stick around so long
good things come and go
bad things come and stay
you count on one hand
all the times it's gone your way
meanwhile default to lonesome
in spite of company or crowd
discontent despite the content
the boring gets loud
you're pale from constant pleasures
or the pleasures too few
the good news if there is good news
they won't speak ill of you
the numbers don't lie when the turnout is strong
they're singing your praises, ignorning all that you've done wrong
you won't feel the sting
of the unkind word
but keep low the number of those who cheer when they've heard
take the folks with your last name
subtract the ones you've never met
divide by those whom you've betrayed
times the ones you can't forget
the ones you can't forget
the ones that you can't forget
that's everybody who's gonna cry when you're dead
when all's said and done and there's nothing more to be said
were you worth the money, the time, the pain, and the song
would they have loved you had they known you'd stick around so long
Erudite chamber pop that hearkens back to the elegant and experimental production of the 1960s, swinging from melancholia to playfulness. Bandcamp New & Notable May 13, 2016