1. |
A Nick in My Heart
03:32
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There's a nick in my heart--
a little loose stitch on the inside of love.
Now my socks are wet
and my shoes are heavy from filling up with blood.
But in the squelching sound loves resounds.
If they could all just see me now—
putting one foot in front of the other,
the prodigal son's low-key brother,
blending in with the bridge and tunnel crowd.
There's a hole in my head
like a Chinese finger trap for bad ideas.
Sounds romantic but it's not;
I'd rather have fucking gunshot.
Sorry to be grim,
it's just a bad idea is a terrible thing.
A long cascading series of them
took you from me little Helen--
and on my own I'm a throne without a queen.
On the day you were born
wish I could've held your little body in my arms.
And say “I'm glad that your here!"
and I'm sorry I'm less a shelter than a storm.
Cuz you deserve the Four Seasons
and for me to smoke outside even if it's freezing.
I love you more than it might seem
given all the things you'll see.
But I can't be there (for obvious reasons).
Smooth skin, air-tight, it's all I need to get my mind right.
Smooth skin, air-tight, it's all I need to get my eyes right.
Smooth skin, air-tight, it's all I need to get my life right.
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2. |
Ding Dong Scrambled Eggs
02:53
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Blind drunk barely making the turn,
echolocating my way through the Chinese lanterns.
Bathed in boorish red light--
yeah, tonight's going to be a good night.
I came here straight from work
in my work clothes, with my work friends, talking work talk, it's the worst.
There's that guy who only wears sandals.
I guess his face really isn't so bad though...
I learned to fuck from a magazine.
And to be honest it's been a short path from that
to here dancing to “The Edge of Seventeen”
with charming arms around my waist.
But in the morning I'll be making some ding dong scrambled eggs.
I don't really want to take him home...
in a general sense but tonight hang a left;
I live near the end of Gravel Pit Road.
It's just like “Cheers” but sad.
I'm a great Diane--where's my Sam?
Cuz there was nothing wrong with Walter.
He was an ok man and we had ok friends. But he loved me like a father.
Well not *my* father.
And let’s not take that any farther.
I learned to fuck from a magazine.
And to be honest it's been a short path from that
to here dancing to “The Edge of Seventeen”
with charming arms around my waist.
But in the morning I'll be making some ding dong scrambled eggs.
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3. |
They Don't Know About Us
03:43
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Screaming north in an orange Chevy Nova,
golf ball bouncing in the gas tank, method acting like a grown up.
You're right on my way out past Icicle Grove.
Now that might mean that you’re rich, but it probably means that you’re super poor.
Not that I'd know or care, you met me up on the thoroughfare,
smirking through the window said you told your friends you’re washing your hair.
Cuz they don't know about us.
Yeah, they don't know about us.
Said “I'll totally go, but you're gonna have to pick me up.
Cuz they don't know about us."
Now you’re sitting in my car messing with the radio,
acting like a compliment, and looking for a song you know.
I said “This isn't easy--you can't just say you’re 22.”
You barely roll you eyes and say, "I'm gonna have more luck that you."
Looking for you cousin's friend who hangs around the liquor store.
I think that's probably him--dusty guy chain smoking Newports.
And he don't know about us.
Yeah, he don't know about us.
Give him forty bucks and say, "Cheap gin and Hawaiian Punch."
Cuz he don't know about us.
The air is really getting hot, loudly blowing through the cab.
All the goods safe inside a backpack, going swimming near the dam.
I'm not sure why I'm asking "would you ever want children?”
but you say “It’ll probably happen,” not sounding particularly willing.
Family’s fucked up, got like three creepy uncles.
Your stepdad’s a drunk and your mom is an asshole.
And they don’t know about us.
Yeah, they don’t know about us.
In two more years it's Portland or bust.
Where they won’t know about us.
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4. |
Literally Main Street
03:01
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I want your hands around my waist.
Oh god, I wish that was something I could change.
I want to walk with you again
down literally "Main Street" nothing to see here,
nothing forbidden.
You said, "The night air is colder now."
Our feet finding slick spots where the cars had spun out.
If you're falling take my hand.
No, if you're *falling* take my hand.
Alone for now, so bottoms up to fate.
Surrounded by rich children discussing real estate.
You're in Alaska, or so I’m told,
pipe-fitting your way through the North Slope.
My little centerfold.
Was the night air colder then?
I would write you right now but I can't hold a pen.
Was it all just in my head?
Am I still in your head?
I want your hands around my waist.
Thought I'd feel different in early middle age.
I want to walk with you again
but I'd settle for a phone call with you now and then.
With the night air in our mouths,
walking through the back yards of our empty houses,
with my voice in your head.
And your voice in my head.
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5. |
For You, With You
02:57
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Ten dollars for your thoughts.
To me they're worth a lot,
it's no secret things are on the rocks.
Four punk kids sleeping on the floor.
Played the show for room and board.
You're crying just past the bathroom door.
No tears in my eyes, no heart set on fire,
but if they're required for you, for you--
I'll tear out my hair, throw a lighter on the chair,
and sit in despair with you, with you.
The worst tasting breakfast of my life.
You kept the conversation light, spreading red jam with your knife.
You'll say the words when we're alone.
I'm taking weird ways and back roads;
don't wreck my regular route home.
No tears in my eyes, no heart set on fire,
but if they're required for you, for you--
I'll tear out my hair, throw a lighter on the chair,
and sit in despair with you, with you.
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6. |
White Lighter
03:01
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I'm in love with a thing that doesn't love me back.
Johnny should have thrown a book in the gunny sack.
Big signs saying "Look kid, that's a wrap.
You're 32, about as cute as a heart attack."
You can do it you've just gotta be strong
against the good little girl who's got bad love to give.
I don't care if I'm doing this wrong.
I wanna see her face--it hasn't changed a bit!
I wanna see it!
But really see it!
And not just on the weekends!
Gotta keep the white lighter lit,
yeah, keep the white lighter lit.
Yeah keep the white lighter lit.
And I don't care if we pay for this--
gotta keep the white lighter lit.
Yeah, keep the white lighter lit.
Whoa, that came a little out of nowhere. Sorry.
But what do you expect from an air-quotes "artist"?
So let me be direct and ask,
"Was it charming and honest? Or maybe just a little alarming?"
I don't know what I'm going to do--
I've got a bad hair cut and I'm too dumb for grad school.
Rubicon in the rear view, never had a more clear view
of five little words I'm too scared to say:
I wanna see it!
But really see it!
And not just on the weekends!
Gotta keep the white lighter lit,
yeah, keep the white lighter lit.
Yeah keep the white lighter lit.
And I don't care if we pay for this--
gotta keep the white lighter lit.
Yeah, keep the white lighter lit.
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7. |
Way Way Back
02:49
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It's been a long night on the backstreets of Rome.
Well, not "Rome" but a Rome-like place.
Through distant music I hear you calling my name.
So I'll lose the faith and keep the pace walking away.
Rachel, I know you think I'm a quitter but I'm trying to be kind.
So sing me something old fashioned,
I'll go home and drink some milk tonight.
While you cool out, unbutton your collar, and add some ice to your drink.
We go way back, we go way way back, and I still need some space to think.
I’ll be goddamned if I’m not a long way from home.
Just a key looking for an ignition.
Gotta lay low 'til I don’t smell like cologne.
Blah, blah, blah--more contrition cloaked in exposition. I'm screaming out--
Rachel, I know you think I'm a quitter but I'm trying to be kind.
So sing me something old fashioned,
I'll go home and drink some milk tonight.
While you cool out, unbutton your collar, and add some ice to your drink.
We go way back, we go way way back, and I still need some space to think.
When I bunched up the slack on the back of your faux oversized mink coat.
Little kiss on the mouth, little thunder in a drought,
and I feel you close to me.
I honestly can’t wait to tell you the weird things I’ve seen.
Rachel, I know you think I'm a quitter but I'm trying to be kind.
So sing me something old fashioned,
I'll go home and drink some milk tonight.
While you cool out, unbutton your collar, and add some ice to your drink.
We go way back, we go way way back.
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8. |
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You were just a kid; you were sixteen.
Driving too fast but you hadn't been drinking.
Wearing a dress with no sleeves.
Wrapped your car around a pole by the fourteenth hole of the Elks Club putting green.
You were probably gonna go to school out of state
if you kept up your grades.
Maybe USC, you wanna live in LA.
But you never set foot on a plane.
Now the world will never know the look on your face
when you first see the waves.
I was just a kid; I was thirteen.
News came on the school intercom and I just started crying.
Barely knew your first and last name.
Probably said hi at most once or twice so it felt strange, it felt wrong, it felt profane.
For me you were right at the edge of my page.
For some you were right at the center, baby.
I was throwing rocks into the depth of their pain
and what a faint little splash they made.
Well don't life just happen on a regular day?
That's when I first heard the waves.
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9. |
Where the Good Love Goes
03:35
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I’ll leave you in the morning.
This won't take long; I’m just trying to tie up loose ends.
There's something nameless approaching--
a cloud of answers, blanketing all of your questions.
This ain't no message from above singing "Don't you worry, love."
and I'm only gonna say this once:
You're not going to know who's going to bring you home
and teach you where the good loves goes.
C’mon kid, you can ease your grip.
If you can’t let go sing a hymn that you know is worth saving.
I lied--this won't happen quick.
Scream out your lungs, but you’ll become among the rest of us here patiently aching.
I don't think you heard that advice.
I know what that feels like,
so I'm gonna give you twice:
You're not going to know who's going to bring you home
and teach you where the good loves goes.
You're not going to know who's going to bring you home
and teach you where the good loves goes.
I thought you knew all about it, oh what's wrong?
You can check all my pockets for magic wands.
I know it's hard to accept it--we're all running blind.
To get it into your head, gonna give it to you three times:
You're not going to know who's going to bring you home
and teach you where the good loves goes.
You're not going to know who's going to bring you home
and teach you where the good loves goes.
You're not going to know who's going to bring you home
and teach you where the good loves goes.
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10. |
Long Road Back to Idaho
02:39
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Spent eighty dollars on the MAX
riding 'round on rail road tracks
for the first few weeks that summer.
Drinking tall cans of Lebatts,
sitting in each other’s laps,
at your dad's empty house in the suburbs.
Inviting over freaks and weirdos,
barfing on chaise lounge by the
window with the doors unlocked.
Learning to sweet talk the cops.
Yeah, let’s train to the city square.
You know some kids who hang out there.
They’ll yank my chain for smoking cloves
and the hangdog one will take you home.
I said, “I’m not sure what I’d do here alone...
but it's a long road back to Idaho."
The first thing that I did was steal a case
of Heineken without a place
to set it down for long.
I walked around all night but that felt wrong.
Woke up with rain upon my cheek,
called my parents, cried for weeks,
but life took pity on me.
I fell in with some new age Christian guys,
told a few white lies,
then worked through the winter roasting coffee.
Now you're out on Belmont breaking hearts,
teaching fitness martial arts.
Bumped into you in a bakery
and I think that you still grind your teeth.
I can’t tell if you still know me
or if I just don't know myself.
Losing track of every rhyme scheme,
happy we both have our health.
Man, that was a long time ago.
It's a long road back to Idahob
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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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