Day: March 19, 2012

This morning, while you slept.

Standalone phrases have been inspiring songs like mad lately. I can’t explain it.

First there was an email I sent the other day in which I stumbled onto a nicer way to say “son of a bitch”. A few hours later I was holding a guitar and a song was seemingly writing itself. Today my friend Bree posted a series of photos on Facebook, giving the album the title “This Morning, While You Slept”. Before I even looked at one of the pictures, another song was in the process of being written.

It’s a very simple little thing, and pretty much the opposite of everything that’s in my head right now musically, but there’s something about it I like. I’m not sure yet if I want to flesh it out more or just leave it naked like this. I’m sure the song will let me know one way or another. I like the lyrics, and it was a little strange how fast they came tumbling out. These days I usually have to dig a bit, or at least wait until the words want to show up. Right now they’re showing up on the regular, with little or no provocation from me.

I’d tell you the story behind the music, but there isn’t much of one. It’s just another love/hate song for someone who doesn’t exist, starting out with hate before winding its way around to love at the end. I’m really kind of proud of that vocal melody in the verses, though I couldn’t tell you why. It just felt good to climb up and down through those notes.

Thanks to Bree for the inspiration.

(Note: when I sing “diaphragm”, I mean the thoracic diaphragm. Not the contraceptive.)

This Morning, While You Slept

This morning, while you slept,
I thought of ways to kill you
while staring at the pale blue sky.
It was the ugliest blue I’d ever seen,
and I believe it’s going to make me cry.

This morning, as I woke,
I found the rhythm of your breath
by timing each rise and fall
of your diaphragm responding to
signals from the carbon in your blood.

I’ll come by when there’s no one here,
just to imagine the lives we could have had
if we hadn’t been born
with these goddamn bodies and brains
that betray us at every turn
in a multitude of ways.

This morning, while you slept,
I thought of ways to hold you
without waking you premature.
Instead, I left without a word.
You would have done the same, I’m sure.