There are people frozen here.
A busy day sometimes ends this way.
These empty veins, these tunnels, and these trains.
As for me, I'll stay inside.
I’ll push my voice through all this blue-white noise.
These black-white keys, they’ve been so good to me.
Did you know I sank back when I was small?
I ate before I swam, and came to life here on the grand.
As the sea turned red, music filled my head.
And white birds began to fall from the sky.
And I kept my grip on your thin neck
I beat my sticks against your skin.
I was selfish, dear, but I let you listen in.
So, I sing this broken hymn
I spilt my voice and it broke like bone.
Mary cries when she hears
This burnt prayer made from black sand, string and sea.
So I offer it to St. Jude, who’s not too holy to help me.
Every five years or so, Jim Clements emerges to drop a collection of literate, witty, surreal, gut-wrenching songs, before
disappearing again into the shadows. A songwriter’s songwriter in the tradition of Leonard Cohen, Townes Van Zandt, and Nick Cave, his songs have earned him critical acclaim and a devoted following over his fifteen-year career....more