the ledger (talkradio remix)

Acoustic Folk-Noir, Melancholic Piano, Deep Male Vocals, Slow Tempo, Lyrical, Atmospheric, Spoken Word Intro

(Verse 1) I was a gypsy of belonging, a collector of souls Turning strangers into stories, filling up the holes I learned the thermodynamics of a smile and a drink Expanding the circle 'til I didn't have to think Now the chorus has quieted, the original voices are gone Just a photograph fading on the mantle at dawn I’m the friendliest man in a town made of mist With a feral cat colony and a dog on the list.

(Chorus) Now I’m living in the Subjunctive Mood With the "would be" and "could be," the digital food They are loved ones, yes, in a constellation of light But they cannot sit on my porch tonight I am relationally rich, but I’m penniless in skin Hearing whispering wires where the silence comes in.

(Verse 2) It’s the Law of Large Numbers, the ledger of the heart If you love enough people, you fall enough apart I diversified the risk, spread the capital wide But I didn't count the cost of the receding tide A million hairline fractures make a fault line in the stone The arithmetic of attachment says you die alone I’m not jaded, I’m just weary of the math Tracing ghosts of my universe down a gravel path.

(Bridge) I wove a giant net, it spans across the sea I thought if I wove it thick, it would carry me But I’m sitting at the edge, holding onto the thread Pulses of regard from the living and the dead The threads tug my fingers, they shimmer and they stand But a thread is not an arm... and a wire is not a hand.

(Guitar Solo - Slow, mournful, fading into simple strumming)

(Verse 3) So I accept the solitude, the quality of the quiet The end of the accumulation, the end of the riot I am the stain of meaning that the water left behind A witness to the love that was gentle and kind The music has faded, the "expansion" is done Just me and the echoes, and the setting sun.

(Outro) Yeah, the wires are humming. But the porch is still. Relationally rich. Phenomenologically penniless. (Fade out on the hum of a single piano note)

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Intro - Spoken Word over soft piano) The data is in. The experiment is over. I built a life on the thesis that connection is infinite. But the heart... the heart is not a machine. It’s just a room that gets crowded, then empty. (Verse 1) I was a gypsy of belonging, a collector of souls Turning strangers into stories, filling up the holes I learned the thermodynamics of a smile and a drink Expanding the circle 'til I didn't have to think Now the chorus has quieted, the original voices are gone Just a photograph fading on the mantle at dawn I’m the friendliest man in a town made of mist With a feral cat colony and a dog on the list. (Chorus) Now I’m living in the Subjunctive Mood With the "would be" and "could be," the digital food They are loved ones, yes, in a constellation of light But they cannot sit on my porch tonight I am relationally rich, but I’m penniless in skin Hearing whispering wires where the silence comes in. (Verse 2) It’s the Law of Large Numbers, the ledger of the heart If you love enough people, you fall enough apart I diversified the risk, spread the capital wide But I didn't count the cost of the receding tide A million hairline fractures make a fault line in the stone The arithmetic of attachment says you die alone I’m not jaded, I’m just weary of the math Tracing ghosts of my universe down a gravel path. (Bridge) I wove a giant net, it spans across the sea I thought if I wove it thick, it would carry me But I’m sitting at the edge, holding onto the thread Pulses of regard from the living and the dead The threads tug my fingers, they shimmer and they stand But a thread is not an arm... and a wire is not a hand. (Guitar Solo - Slow, mournful, fading into simple strumming) (Verse 3) So I accept the solitude, the quality of the quiet The end of the accumulation, the end of the riot I am the stain of meaning that the water left behind A witness to the love that was gentle and kind The music has faded, the "expansion" is done Just me and the echoes, and the setting sun. (Outro) Yeah, the wires are humming. But the porch is still. Relationally rich. Phenomenologically penniless. (Fade out on the hum of a single piano note)

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