Raindrops Run the Gaunlet.

2003 New York Bronx style indie jazz soul, slightly hip hop influenced pensive, versatile 1970s groove vocals through saxophone, solo, sentimental and sadness a stereo phonograph!!!vocals but light and dreamy but not cheesy or jubilant- down to earth, somber and sobering; harrowing lyrics over strangely satisfying and coquette guitarist, strings and keys-, acoustic, experimental, lo-fi, lo-fi, ballad, progressive, acoustic, atmospheric, synth, smooth

V4.5+

And that rain -
In rivulets - They sliver ; in hushed whispers , 
They splinter.
Such was
Some splendor.
The miles the miles the miles 
how many
Maybe I don’t remember.
Maybe it makes no matter….

The wheels peel thin layers
Of their thick rubber hides
We’re down
To the metal bones-
Sparks at the concrete soul of the road
It is a load I can’t weather
When all the good people want to do
Is asleep another hour or two
2 AM and I’m sitting with
The world in the seat
And the demon, he’s
Driving…
Driving headlong into
Every lone thought
I’m the wreck I have wrought.
Only a mess of memories;
You’re asleep,
In the comfort of the country
No quill to question of where
Your next bed will be
Every bed is your belonging, baby-
Belonging- 
              It’s my only longing….
I’ve been so long gone
All my ideals were wrong
This isn’t a song
I won’t sing a
Single line
Just got to get past this
Passion of mine
Honey, I can’t come
Home this time.

And the rains in Rivulets, they sliver
In hushed whispers, the splinter.
Such was
Some splendor.
The miles the miles the miles the miles
How many?
Maybe I don’t remember
Maybe it makes no matter….

The truth is, I’ve gone and wrote…
Gone and wrote
One more lonely
Melancholy
Ode, my lady….
Melodic country tune
Sitting on a bus
Back to Memphis.
This wasn’t supposed
To end up
Just some other
Nursery rhyme for the
Insomniac to
Home himself to sleep
Riding on down the rail…..
But what can I do?
It’s just what
Came to me….
I wish you’d
Come
To me,
Too.
But you don’t come- just the endless racing, raindrops rushing there’s zigzag pats, disappearing this way in that soon as they shatter on that clear dead end. - a glass house I — 
Stoned, I throw these stone songs in..

And the rain, in rivulets, they sliver;
In hush whispers,  they splinter-
Such  was
Some splendor.
The miles to miles to miles to miles to miles
How many?
So many I surely don’t remember.

Maybe it makes no matter….

2294/7500

Raindrops run the gauntlet, horizontal, hurrying to- Their shadow snakes slide weightless across my cheek and throat Piercing through the glass pane On the back of The bus I was coming to some new destination Or running from the same old scene? I don’t know Which way I go The engine drives with no notice of The unrest - Dressed in my skin . And that rain - In rivulets - They sliver ; in hushed whispers , They splinter. Such was Some splendor. The miles the miles the miles how many Maybe I don’t remember. Maybe it makes no matter…. The wheels peel thin layers Of their thick rubber hides We’re down To the metal bones- Sparks at the concrete soul of the road It is a load I can’t weather When all the good people want to do Is asleep another hour or two 2 AM and I’m sitting with The world in the seat And the demon, he’s Driving… Driving headlong into Every lone thought I’m the wreck I have wrought. Only a mess of memories; You’re asleep, In the comfort of the country No quill to question of where Your next bed will be Every bed is your belonging, baby- Belonging- It’s my only longing…. I’ve been so long gone All my ideals were wrong This isn’t a song I won’t sing a Single line Just got to get past this Passion of mine Honey, I can’t come Home this time. And the rains in Rivulets, they sliver In hushed whispers, the splinter. Such was Some splendor. The miles the miles the miles the miles How many? Maybe I don’t remember Maybe it makes no matter…. The truth is, I’ve gone and wrote… Gone and wrote One more lonely Melancholy Ode, my lady…. Melodic country tune Sitting on a bus Back to Memphis. This wasn’t supposed To end up Just some other Nursery rhyme for the Insomniac to Home himself to sleep Riding on down the rail….. But what can I do? It’s just what Came to me…. I wish you’d Come To me, Too. But you don’t come- just the endless racing, raindrops rushing there’s zigzag pats, disappearing this way in that soon as they shatter on that clear dead end. - a glass house I — Stoned, I throw these stone songs in.. And the rain, in rivulets, they sliver; In hush whispers, they splinter- Such was Some splendor. The miles to miles to miles to miles to miles How many? So many I surely don’t remember. Maybe it makes no matter….

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