High as a stone, I fall to the earth at an acceleration constant
Minus nine point eight, meters per second squared
What weighs more, a pound of emotion or a box of hammers?
Who can tell? When everything in free fall falls the same
My parabolic arc, a ramification of the integration of a constant
Closing in, on an abrupt break with the continuity
I saw my mom, in San Francisco, but she was back in Michigan
I saw my mom, I could have swore I saw a ghost
I called you up, using base ten digits represented in base two
I send my words, three thousand miles at the speed of c
What means more, a logical expression or expressing that I miss you?
Who can tell? When everything we’re fixed to is flying circles round the sun
Closing doors, and opening new ones is a hallmark of our species
Evolving sores, cuts and bruises and lesions of the heart
I saw my dad in San Francisco, but he was back in Michigan
I saw my dad, could have swore I saw myself
The posthumous record by the legendary Tony Joe White is full of rugged, smoky blues & Americana, culled from a trove of demos. Bandcamp New & Notable May 10, 2021
Banjo-wielding indie folk outfit drop their fourth full-length studio album of broody ballads and barroom stompers. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 13, 2014