so much depends on a little red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the white chickens these days a man dies you can't leave him be gotta get his body offa your property mm-hmm so much depends on a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater…

Spinning like the wheel Painted on the temple Does the wheel turn slowly Or is it me that moves? I can count the hours And I can name the prophets Kept like silver spoons Struck like wooden matches Should I call it sleep or divine…

Maybe I’m someone Or maybe I’m not A tree falls in the forest And the roots start to rot And my lady she loves me Whether I like it or not I’ve got all that I need I’ve got all that I’ve got It’s too early for peaches And it’s too late…

Sunday morning, no such luck My head is dizzy, it’s bright as fuck I’m dying I make my way to south French broad Lumbering wondering where she’s gone or something I see Sam he’s in the same shape as me Bundled in funneling misery by the…

V1: Oh, how did we get here Seems familiar but it’s unclear Did no one take the reigns before we lost control I’d rather say something If it’s better than nothing Wouldn’t you think twice if it saves your soul Chorus: Darlin…

disintegration loop recorded with voice memo

I’m light and love Until I go broke I’m nothing but smiles TIL I’m on my last smoke And if the suns not in my eyes I could tell you a joke “It only gets better? Let’s leave it to hope” I’m a fair weather vain TIL the rain makes me…

We're getting political with this one.

Beat Your Ass Like You're Talking Bout A Little Kid

Recorded Live (Field recording) and in Studio for the June 2025 REM (Record every Month) .. Mixed and edited in Logic Pro

Last of the five-day experiment in intervals. Again, my friend Ebow was acting persnickety, as is its wont (I'm sure I have nothing to do with it), and the result includes some abrasive string rattling. I like the melody of the original recording…

The screams!! The screams!!

It was not for me to chose You’ve still got a lot to lose Give it up or try again Breaking ties or make amends It’s almost miraculous To go as far as you did With the rage still white hot In your white knuckle grip You were dragged…