1. |
Wring it Dry
03:38
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I am not that young thing that they had
a candy-eyed and Gumby-bodied lad
every morning finding more hair
from my head circling the drain where
water collects what has passed away
it’s too late to be a wunderkind
as surprise yields to expectation
seventeen, they say miracle
twenty three, every eye’s apple
thirty five, you’re just another one
and truly I do know why
no one’s surprised to find someone afraid to die
if 70 years is all you can muster hope for, you’ll wring it dry
so let me age with dignity and grace
let character haunt the lines of my face
let me long for truth in season
let me give what has been given
let my strangling grip release to rest
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2. |
I am in the Sea
02:43
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I sat alone,
twenty one under a sun just setting
I sat and wondered
if the way that God thought of me
was like some pre-teen girl
ceaselessly praying for the souls
of her favorite movie stars
a little beautiful, a little pitiful
a stone thrown in a stream is all I want to be
a stone thrown in a stream is all I want to be
but my hands confess more than not I find
I am in the sea
or maybe I was like
those back hills boys out east Sonora
on the fourth of July
waging roman candle wars
in every victory
and even in the worst defeats
I was aware that they were
just games I had yet to wager any bet
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3. |
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don’t you know that its okay
to sit and laugh until the sunlight fades
to lazy Saturday, to rest
until cast iron and coffee draw you from bed
oh honey, funny thoughts can creep in with time
but contentment’s not a crime because they name it so
oh sugar, look me in the eye and you’ll know
that anywhere you go is right where I am home
like searchers shipwrecked on some shore
unaware there’s no new land to explore
let them wander while we rest
and dig again the depths between our chests
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4. |
Quiet Man
03:02
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now honey there are times when you suppose
that your man is walled in his own clothes
humming tunes and setting pots of tea
but when the morning sun light on your cheeks
a melody floats above you as you sleep
though I just can’t sing it like I’d like
oh, you deserve the words, I know
fumbled is better than not spoken at all
and when you’re sick of all that dumb reserve
you’ll stick me right between the ribs with words
I know you only mean to get a rise
oh, you deserve the words, I know
fumbled is better than not spoken at all
I can be such a quiet man
when it counts
and when it doesn’t
when you’re drowning in the dark
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5. |
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have you read your Kant and read your Hume?
strong-armed a fable on fated afternoons?
the leaky cistern rambles at the school,
just the facts apart from any grid to put them through.
and it will rip apart the lattice
it will pop your red balloon
it doesn't pay to want the truth
this is a stick-up. mind your own.
studies show that nothing can be known except for what studies have shown.
I am servant-sure. I am Scooby Do.
just a grid apart from any facts will have to do.
and it will walk you up to madness
it will gouge your eyes to see
it will walk you up to madness
it will gouge your eyes to see
it doesn’t pay to want the truth
and you can walk me to the stake.
the flowers bear their witness every day.
and you can nail Him to the tree.
and call it arboreal therapy.
it doesn’t pay to want the truth.
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6. |
This Place is Haunted
04:14
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the sun and clouds collage on the surface
of the patient creek
whether you take time for them or not
even the screens you glue to
your hips, your homes
can catch the tune and add a harmony
and it won’t be shut out
makes its claim on every single one of us
if it wasn’t our industry that scorched
it could have been our pride,
still wondrous ghosts haunt every nook
and when the first fruits of the new life start to sprout
open up your home
let the ripe air replace the old
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Championships Portland, Oregon
Championships is the product of Portland songwriter Cameron Heger. Though he is no singer, though he is no multi-instrumentalist, and though he is barely a songwriter--Championships, against all odds, exists.
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