Cracks in a sidewalk, lines on a face, rings in a tree trunk, roots in this place…
Cracks in a sidewalk, lines on a face, rings in a tree trunk, roots in this place… Bring me…
Back to the place where I lived before.,
back where I know where there’s a key to the door.
Back where the faces look like mine,
back where I fall back into time.
Back, I’m falling back, falling back.
Ice on a sidewalk, lines in my face,
names in the tree bark, blood in this place…
Ice on a sidewalk, lines in your face,
names in the tree bark, love in this place… Pull me..
Back to the place where my blood runs deep,
back where I fall into dreamless sleep,
Back where the attic smells like books,
back where they sometimes give me funny looks.
Back, I’m falling back, falling back.
Hills without sidewalks, redwood trees, views of the sunset, feels like peace… It’s good to be…
Back to the place where I live today,
back to the place where the kittens play.
Sometimes seems like the end of the earth,
but I’m never far from the place of my birth.
Back, falling back, falling back.
Cerebral palsy curbed his ability to play guitar the conventional way, so Nagoda learned double slide, this is his debut LP.
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