1. |
A Year to the Day
04:40
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It’s been a year to the day.
Not a lot has changed.
I’m just a bit older,
But I still feel the same
As that day one year ago
When I came back home,
Telling myself not to be scared
Because adventures also roam.
I live my life one phase at a time.
It helps to keep me moving;
It helps keep hope alive.
When I’m unsure of my direction in this life
I delude myself:
“Everything will be different at the
Next stop down the line.”
I wouldn’t say that I
Wasted all my time,
But I can’t deny things haven’t gone exactly
How I hoped they might.
Which doesn’t meant that things aren’t good.
It doesn’t mean I would
Go back in time and skip that flight,
Though I sometimes wish I could.
I live my life one phase at a time.
It helps to keep me moving;
It helps keep hope alive.
When I’m unsure of my direction in this life
I delude myself:
“Everything will be different at the
Next stop down the line.”
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2. |
Absurdity
03:56
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I’ve been rolling this boulder up the hill
Although I know tomorrow I’ll have to push it still.
From this solitary peak I can see I’m not alone.
There’s a billion contented people
All shackled to their stone.
I’m not the first to notice the absurdity
Of trading off our should for complacency.
I’ve been telling myself I’m in the wrong.
I should give up all this dreaming and shove that rock along,
But this self imposed chain is tearing at my skin.
I’d rather strangle myself with it, much to my chagrin.
I’m not the first to notice the absurdity
Of trading off our should for complacency.
We should all be so ashamed of our
Complicity in this charade,
For living life in vain,
But who wants to feel the pain?
Who wants to feel the pain?
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3. |
I Ride the Bus
03:38
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I collected my change,
Bought a cup of cheap black coffee.
The styrofoam warms my hands.
I transmit my grime,
I spread my dirt across
This pure white cup of mine.
I ride the bus just to get warm,
Watch the same tired sights pass by
Until they kick me off.
Just a bought of bad luck,
I haven’t begged for a dime because my pride
Won’t let me hold up a sign,
But everyone averts their eyes.
I’m just a smudge on this world,
Black as this filth on this cup of mine.
And I ride the bus just to get warm,
Feel the same fleeting glances in the angry eyes
That pass me by.
No, this sidewalk is not my home.
I’m just waiting here for the tides
To change my way.
And I swear I won’t stay long.
This is not my first foray
Into the depths of adversity.
But until my feet
Get back on solid ground
I’ll ride the bus,
Just to get warm.
I collect my change,
Buy a cup of cheap black coffee,
And spread my grime on this cup of mine.
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4. |
The American Dream
04:10
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In New York City there’s a bright-eyed boy,
The ink on his diploma still wet.
His daddy pulled strings to obtain that piece
He was owed of The American Dream.
Six months later he signed his name,
Foreclosing on a family’s home.
The bank slammed the door and bolted the latch
On their piece of The American Dream.
And his eyes, they were dulled,
And his mind, it was pulled
In directions he never foresaw.
It’s an end-sum game
With avarice to blame.
The conclusion he was forced to draw:
Someone’s success is the
Failure of somebody else.
In Tifton, Georgia there’s a hardened mom
Working her hands to the bone
Stocking the shelves at that new Dollar Store
For her piece of The American Dream.
And six months later she’s hanging her head
in the welfare office downtown.
She swallowed her pride,
Now she’s waiting in line
For her piece of The American Dream.
Well her hands full of cracks
And that pain in her back
Were all she had to show for all she’s toiled.
And when her kids would ask
Why she was slugging from that flask,
She’d just smile and say the ending can’t be spoiled:
Someone’s success is the
Failure of somebody else.
We’ve all got our mountain to climb.
Someone’s success is the
Failure of somebody else.
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5. |
Not Again
04:46
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I know why people choose to
Devote themselves to a
God they’ve never seen.
What’s there to question
When no matter what you do you’re just
A part of some outdated prophecy?
Maybe I’d be better off if I could
Make believe there’s a
Timeless diety
Keeping guard over his massive flock
Among billions of sheep he’s got
A great plan just for me.
I throw my hands up.
Oh no, I woke up today
When last night I’d hoped
My eyes would never open again.
It’s been months since I awoke to find
Anything but this
Suffocating feeling of dread.
The mirror lies. Could it be that I’m
The ragged old man
Who’s staring back at me,
And if I am, why did no one think to
Inform me
I grew up long ago?
I throw my hands up.
I throw my hands up.
I’d believe anything
To get out of my head.
I would do anything
To slither from this bed.
I’d throw my hands up.
I’d throw my hands up.
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6. |
||||
A sign on my door, which I drew at 12 years old
Still designates this tiny space as mine,
But the paint’s been changed,
Not a shred of me remains,
Save a message in the veil of dust upon the shelves
Whose bald spots where my life should go
Remind me this is not my home.
Well I’d expect to find myself
More hesitant to walk away,
But I suppose I realized
Long ago this place
Stopped being my home.
A flag adorns the front page of my passport.
It designates a patch of Earth I’m free to roam,
But the pages stained
With swirls of colored in
Would imply theres’ somewhere else that I belong.
I tear my roots up from the loam
Because this place is not my home.
Well I’d expect to find myself
More hesitant to walk away,
But I suppose I realized
Long ago this place
Stopped being my home.
I tear my roots up from the loam
Because this place is not my home.
I tear my roots up from the loam
Because this place is not my home.
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7. |
Common Denominator
05:16
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I’ve been asked before
What it is I’m running from.
I laughed it off and said,
“I’d prefer to think there’s something
I’m running toward.”
When I pack my bags
And hitch a ride on the back of a gale force wind,
No matter where I land
I always seem to wind up
Right back where I began.
If everything around me has changed,
And I still wake up feeling the same,
I’m the only common denominator.
I’m the common denominator.
Working dead end jobs
In the guise of buying myself a little time.
Strangers as my friends
In the hopes of finding something to tie
Myself to a place I don’t belong,
Where I don’t have to look my past
Or myself in the eyes.
If everything around me has changed,
And I still wake up feeling the same,
I’m the only common denominator.
I’m the common denominator.
If everything around me has changed,
And I still wake up feeling the same,
I’m the only common denominator.
I’m the common denominator.
The next place that I land
I’ll make the change.
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Blake Farha Berlin, Germany
Blake Farha is a native Texan singer/songwriter who has been playing and writing music for over 17
years.
Fueled by his transience, Blake’s vocal driven tunes are reflections of wanderlust, that ever elusive search for self, and the people he meets along the way.
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