Oh rosey youre so far from me tonight
I still feel your fingers in my spine
You're older and wiser
Am I still naïve to believe
That I can change time
Oh Mathew I miss you
Now your leagues across sea
Albany is nothing like back home
It’s a different kind of cold
Lonely’s not the word
There's a lack of color here
The trees are made of stone
On mother I keep dreaming
of the things that get me screaming awake
Mother you don’t fear,
when your day comes you’ll be far away
From the bedsides and frustration
old age is amputation of the soul
You’ll be free you’ll be free from it all
Andy’s in the mountain way up north
I bet the bird sing along to your verse
My brother I get this feeling
when we’re older we’ll never be alone
Feel no sense of obligation
Ill be sitting at the station on tender hooks
credits
from The Hornbook,
released June 30, 2011
Louis Apicello - Horns
Seth Tillinghast - Drums
Peter Mollica - Vocals, Guitar
This sweet, mournful “loose concept” album from folk artist Ian McCuen tracks a journey across the bleak landscape of American life. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 22, 2022