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Staircase Wit

by H. Letham

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1.
2.
Babel Tower 04:22
Well there’s thunder rolling in, I can hear it through the hills, 
and these fires of myself have never learned to sit so still. It traces maps across my mind, from the present to the youth, 
using multicolored pushpins to connect my thoughts to you. Well I’m your April, you’re my May. I spent my youth on a North bound train. You only know how far you came, when you turn around. It’s been so long, that I cannot recall your painted face, 
I know the words, to every song, how could I struggle on your name? In a barren western shack, there lay the egg that we would find, near the Evergreen and Sycamore, its parents had arrived. 
It took a glass of time to pass, before it showed the slightest crack,
 when it opened to present itself, our child turned to sand. And then the lightning struck the urn, we fashioned from our clothes, we stood naked in a field, clutching the embers of your home. Oh you lovely little fulgurite, impressive little tomb, 
the love we shared was not enough to but a breath inside of you.
 Well I’m your April, you’re my May, I spent my youth on a North bound train. You only know how far you came when you turn around. So we built the Babel tower, in the bedroom that we shared, from 
the third floor apartment, with the room above the stairs.
 And we’d stifle all our noises, when we heard the floor boards creak, 
from that heavy footed neighbor, that we had never seen. 
And the language that we learned, so new that it was old.
 These foreign tongues screamed in accents, that we swear we’d heard before. So we pleaded with each other, said “I only want to help” such puzzled brows whispered back, “I can only hear myself...”
3.
I’m still haunted by the dream the I had, when I was much younger. 
 We were married in a garden, where a rose was all I saw. 
 And we met in a museum, where the hallways stretched around us. And 
I found you in the middle, of marble pillars shaped like arms. 
 I spent years inside my mind, growing older than I am now. 
And the time it came to marry, so we wed amongst the flowers.
 And we walked to a gazebo, stand inside its eggshell frame,
 We took the rings, we said the vows, and you took on a new name...
 And you stood upon the summit, of your mountain topped toes.
 As I arched down to meet you, in the middle of the road
. And we boarded on a carriage that adorned us with light, on the back all draped with cans, I kept a flower at my side. As the horse it pulled away, we waved to the friends and family, 
 and a tear was in your eye, when we felt the carriage shake. And that beast had started jumping, startled by the roaring cheers,
 as you slipped your gentle grasp away from mine, you disappeared. 
 I awoke to beating foot prints, trampled limbs and teary eyes. 
It took a week for me to find, that nothing real had ever died...
 But nothing could prepare me, oh, to lose the one I loved, to the demons that my mind could dream of.
4.
Well maybe we've succumb, to a judgement day of tongues. And nothing but the origin, has changed what we see. With the man who shot the arrow, in a shining suit of blue. Well, he didn't think of you, when he thought about it later. It brought the present and the gift, that was left beneath the tree. Quietly, the river hummed, a tune known by everyone. And I go, about my life. Unaware that I have died. While a soft and static song plays upon the radio.
5.
Dreamtime 02:50
6.
The ferryman sat down by the rivers edge and wept, for the silence kept so close to our chests. 
 While the water moved confined, to a sandstone bluffing lie, the Shammah knew river grew in more than just its size. And the water thought amongst itself, “Oh, these years of silence have done me very well. 
But every language rolls, some alcove anecdote,
 and they press upon my tongue, like cresending honeycombs,
 we leave unguarded... so that those who wish may take all they can carry back home." Take these calloused hands, 
and make them whole again. The knowledge that you spin, 
only grows my love for them. Teaching wisdom like a glass to fill, 
kicking water up a hill.
You won’t see a difference in them. Carnelians sat beneath the crashing tide, and sighed,
 “What am I to this, and what to this am I?” A smoothed out gravel stone? A common bluffing manifold? A brother to a Sard, whose pebbled purpose is never known?”
 The water listened slow, to the tale that the cobble told. 
 Attentively nodding to all his misplaced woes. 
 And with the kindest smile, that swallowed mother of the nile, 
 swept the stone out to the blue, water sky. Oh, how wrong you are my stone, 
There so much more to know,
 than what you have been told. Take these calloused hands, 
and make them whole again. The knowledge that you spin, 
only grows my love for them. Teaching wisdom like a glass to fill, 
kicking water up a hill.
You won’t see a difference in them. All the stones that lie make my river bed, are just as much apart of me, as I’m a part of them.
 And the ocean that you see, so much larger than I could be, and I’m apart of it as much as you’re apart of me. From the pebble to fish, and from the fish then to the net, all things exist so that the whole will never end, 
For the purpose that you seek exists not within a throne, and nothing can be perfect without every single stone.
7.
With a folded silk shawl, you dust the skin off, your grandfather clock. And it stopped just last week, but you still feel the need, to wipe it off. All the fabric grew torn from the decayed boards, that now glisten brown. And the pulsing of light, as it hangs off the side, near your clavicle. 
You told me once, that beautiful things will save everything, but themselves, 
as you gave your love away, to someone else. It all takes me to the salad days, of cherry pits, and locked dresser drawers. 
 And my nose bled through the telephone, 
and you knew, we weren’t in love anymore. and you knew, we weren't in love anymore. Oh, it’d be too easy to say, and too large to forget and too small to explain. The way these words escape.
 Oh, it’d be too easy to say, that twelve hundred miles is nothing but a day. 
Or hours, if we would take the plane. Oh, it’d be too easy to say, I want to be with you, I’ll move to LA. And forgive me, for making you wait. Oh, it'd be too easy to say that the words on this page, can be erased just because we say so. Oh how we've said so. But all of the years we spent, we were trapped in April, April, April. Some groundhog day that we've escaped from.
8.
Is this how my father feels? Disappointed in a son as I am in myself? 
Have I drank too much from this well, will I leave you dry? 
Lord knows what I could become, if I had tried.
 And I’m scared of who I’ll become, 
 and I miss, I miss who I was. Oh my God, don’t give up on me yet. 
I’ve already given up on myself 
Oh my God, don’t give up on me yet. 
I’ve already given up on myself. You never knew, how I felt. Kept it bottled up inside. The pain that you saw was the guilt of the ride. How could you know the pride in my heart? Don't be like me, and give up from the start. And I miss what I was. (All I was was wrong) A father with a son. (And I miss what I was.) I miss what I was. (All I was was wrong) A father with a song. Well am I the book that you set aside? Don’t you know that a climax won’t arrive?
9.
When all the doors have opened, 
when all the messes made, all the choices followed,
 by a judges hammer sway. When all the fears have smiled, when all the plays have staged all the statues tumbled, by a woman wearing grey. 
So what do we do now?
 When the songs are all but sung? can we go about our lives, 
feeling proud of what we’ve done?
And will see ever see each other, 
the way we used to years ago?
Will the lives we shared together,
 be enough to let this go?

I don’t know... When all the wells are empty, 
when all wine is dry. 
All the gatherings ended, 
by tomorrows morning light.
 And when all mistakes like this, don't seem to matter as time goes by. So what do I do now, 
when all my friends have left
. We’ve all stayed and moved to places, 
that grow apart as time is spent. But may we always have Paris, 
may the grass always stay green. And I will see you when we can, 
and let us smile at where we’ve been. 

 And if I close my eyes, I see the ones I love. And if I close my mind, 
 I see everyone. For all that’s here tomorrow, 
is happening today, 
and everything that’s happened, is still just on its way.

about

This album was created by friends, for friends.
It was so nice to see you all again.

credits

released May 16, 2013

The Band:

Shaun Tapia
Joseph Tapia
Nick Hanks
Sean Farnworth
Russell Furey

Friends:

Chris Fryer - Glockenspiel
Matthew Weiner - Violin
Logan Maravilla - Percussion
Matt Spinks - Vocals
Cory Barringer - Vocals
Cameron Betts - Vocals
Jennifer Jeffery - Vocals
Joe Tapia - Vocals
Nikki Gallant - Vocals
Courtney Taylor - Vocals
Maggie Shiple - Cover Art

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H. Letham Sacramento, California

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