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1. |
Wax & Flame
01:07
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2. |
Up in a Balloon
03:53
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3. |
Landlocked
05:29
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Landlocked
She walked down through Leesburg
on an east wind in spring.
I had mud on my shoes,
I had mud on my knees,
As I stood in the low field
and watched her aghast.
I thought, what kind of lady
in April would pass all alone?
All nature needs tending
and there’s no time to roam
With a garden for mending
and children at home.
Yet I soon found she’d come
from the great northern lake.
She was a rare kind lady
who had sailed many days on her own.
Now, I’d heard of the Erie, and I’d heard of the sea,
But I’d never seen more than Lee’s lonely creek.
I’d been landlocked since birth—all my days:
A young buckeye tree rooted in place.
Love grows like a violet,
creeping and frail.
Its blooms appear early,
when summer is pale—
Like a leaf under leaves
that’s starved for the light—
Like I was when I heard
the tale of her life on the sea.
I followed her north
before the grain reached my knees.
My land and my home
were just an anchor to me
While she drew me on
like the wind to my sail.
Forward the world shone
just like the grail on the waves.
Now, I’d heard of the Erie, and I’d heard of the sea,
But, I’d never seen more than Lee’s lonely creek.
I’d been landlocked since birth—all my days:
A young buckeye tree rooted in place.
--INSTRUMENTAL INTERLUDE—
I still hear her voice in the foam and the spray.
I still see her face like I saw it that day—
Just under the water, while the storm in my head
Rages on with no mercy
Drowning out all the words she had said.
And I can’t explain why the waves left me here,
But I’ve given my all to their service and fear.
If one day they take me like the woman I loved,
I’ll sail with her there on the wide-open ocean above.
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4. |
The Cane
05:24
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5. |
The World Was Naive
04:13
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The World Was Naive
The world was naive in 1914.
All glory and gallantry muzzles and manes.
The horse and his rider, all red in the rain
meet man’s big achievement in metal and pain.
The soldiers march on, no one quite knows why,
while the war to end all wars illumines the sky.
And the mud in the trenches, the dead in the trenches
The fear in the trenches digs into the mind.
What can it mean?
Is there a reason for everything?
The dead have a glory
Fit for altars and for flames.
I’ve been naive and I’ve tried hard to please
the major above me who looks out for me.
But I slipped and faltered the day that I found
My brother’s torn body alone on the ground.
There’s no room for grieving in all of this noise
There’s no room to bury the soul with the joy.
This war’s just a game, this life’s just a game.
A cruel kind of game that we all have to play.
‘Cause only the dead
Can ever reach the end.
And, when life thrives on stealing
all of the living that’s been spent
I listen to the cries in no-man’s land
And consider whether I should lift my head.
I listen to the cries in no-man’s land
And consider whether I should lift my head.
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6. |
Lift My Head
02:01
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7. |
Finding What's Enough
03:49
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Finding What's Enough
Your hands warm in your pockets—
A nickel and a dime
Left over from a conversation
With a friend wrought out of time.
The trees stain the sidewalk
As their leaves give up the ghost
In an afternoon spent lost
Finding the long way home.
There might be a message
Under every stone,
And if you leave it for your children
They’ll never be alone.
'Cause the story in the soil
And the story in the bone
Are woven by the sinew
Of the will to grow.
So, if you hold your lover
Later on tonight
Don’t be afraid to give her all that
You’ve ever held inside.
That small act of courage
In the arms of one you love
May be all there is to
Finding what’s enough.
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Timothy Zieger Factoryville, Pennsylvania
When it comes to music, I try to write better songs than I used to and make better sounds than I used to.
I have kids, house projects, chickens, a '98 Toyota Tacoma, and a that'll-do home studio.
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