1. |
||||
|
Sitting where it was designed,
trying to be obvious and wondering if you’re blind.
Nursing a drink until my vision blurs
while you check in with the regulars,
just talking shit with you all night.
Sussing out the vibe.
And passing up on rides.
If I could read your mind
then I could catch my breath, I think I’d be just fine.
You could die waiting for an omen, valentine.
I don’t believe in a good moment at the wrong time.
Put on “Feeling Strangely Fine.”
The nights not over until the third attempt
at “Closing Time.”
You’re drying drinking glasses,
ushering out drunk dumbasses.
I cock my head, “Do you want to have one more?”
You pull an ash tray out and lock the door.
If I could read your mind
then I could catch my breath, I think I’d be just fine.
You think it’s just a little crush—hush.
There’s no such thing as a good moment
at the wrong time.
I’m trying to catch my breath,
but I’ve got nothing left
waiting in my lungs.
And If I’ve lost a step,
then we’ll just try our best
to keep the tempo up.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
To the brim —
Spilled my cup on the sidewalk,
bad luck wherever I went.
Trying to keep it level,
to try and keep it on the level for ya.
Moonstruck, ‘til the bolts cut
on the garage, keys cold in your hand.
Yeah we had some weather.
There’s gonna be bad weather,
with or without you.
And you can’t hang on to everything,
but you can’t hang on to nothing.
You know I’ve tried.
There’s room in the trunk and half of the backseat,
so take what you need to drive.
Drifting lanes
on the fucking freeway,
with way more weight than I planned.
Trying to keep the wheels straight,
to keep on the straight and narrow for ya.
You’re a tough guy ‘til the wells dry,
trying to haul up a bucket of sand.
Praying for the rainy season,
hoping for a sign, a reason.
To go on without you.
And you can’t hang on to everything,
but you can’t hang on to nothing.
You know I’ve tried.
There’s room in the trunk and half of the backseat,
so take what you need to drive.
Just take what you need to drive.
|
||||
3. |
Don't Sing So Hard
02:01
|
|||
|
You don’t really want to sing the blues.
You’re not sad, but you know that you’ve got to
blast it out while they’re pouring drinks.
Give ‘em hell while they’re ordering chicken wings.
Don’t sing so hard.
You don’t really want to play guitar,
but you’re taking requests and covering Big Star.
Barely a glance from the chattering crowd,
if you’re singing “Night Moves,”
might as well sing it loud, loud, loud, loud.
Don’t sing so hard.
I keep it quiet when I’m driving home.
Fuck the radio.
Fuck an open road.
Window down, wind crushing my ears,
could be no one, nowhere, easier than myself here.
Don’t sing so hard.
|
||||
4. |
Kept It Buried
03:48
|
|||
|
You just met me,
but you think you know me, right?
Yeah, tightrope walker there’s a lot on the line.
Kept it buried
for a long, long time.
Oh good, I’ve got me phone,
with algorithmic dogs and babies,
naked ladies, shit,
I’ve never felt more alone.
So go on take it hard.
Thumb through all the shots you blew,
the friends you knew,
be advertised to,
go on and feel it all.
Don’t keep it buried
It’s been a long, long, time.
|
||||
Cataldo Seattle, Washington
Cataldo has been hailed as “the rare kind of artist who’s able to absorb the chaotic world around him and distill it into crystalline song” by American Songwriter. Keepers has been welcomed as “nostalgic, and effortlessly, poetically profound,” by Nylon and “wistful and hopeful and beautiful, a brightly emotive yet understated slow-build." by Stereogum. ... more
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