Time To Get Gone One Last Time
written by: Jak Locke
written by: Jak Locke
version 1:
from Strange Apartments (November 18th 2002) (4:00)
Behind the idealistic mask you can gamble with your soul
Redeeming the troubled with my smile, my mind and all I hold
And showing for it solitude within the merchant host
Rejecting peace and convincing myself that least is most
A panhandler's wrist forsaking pain no matter time held stiff
But for the grace of alcohol to stand in the wind as it shifts
And fills my sails the wrong way out, misfortune as my guide
Selling off my typical word of God for the Hecatic muse who lied
My ambiguous philosophy drips still through the veins
Of sedimentary intellects of those who live to drain
Now figures pass outside my door singing songs that I can't hear
To wait for rainstorm prophecy to tell when all is clear
I might be back next Sunday, I'll write you if I'm not
I can't stick around this place too long, you've probably forgot
With its chorus of dissonant parrots and its women who beg to be used
No, I'm going back where I came from where I've got, I got nothing
And nothing to lose
Redeeming the troubled with my smile, my mind and all I hold
And showing for it solitude within the merchant host
Rejecting peace and convincing myself that least is most
A panhandler's wrist forsaking pain no matter time held stiff
But for the grace of alcohol to stand in the wind as it shifts
And fills my sails the wrong way out, misfortune as my guide
Selling off my typical word of God for the Hecatic muse who lied
My ambiguous philosophy drips still through the veins
Of sedimentary intellects of those who live to drain
Now figures pass outside my door singing songs that I can't hear
To wait for rainstorm prophecy to tell when all is clear
I might be back next Sunday, I'll write you if I'm not
I can't stick around this place too long, you've probably forgot
With its chorus of dissonant parrots and its women who beg to be used
No, I'm going back where I came from where I've got, I got nothing
And nothing to lose
version 2:
from Post-Apocalyptic Hymnal (December 3rd 2008) (4:16)
Behind the idealistic mask you can gamble with your soul
Redeeming the troubled with my smile, my mind and all I hold
And showing for it solitude within the merchant host
Rejecting peace and convincing myself that least is most
A panhandler's wrist forsaking pain no matter time held stiff
But for the grace of alcohol to stand in the wind as it shifts
And fills my sails the wrong way out, misfortune as my guide
Selling off my typical word of God for the Hecatic muse who lied
My ambiguous philosophy drips still through the veins
Of sedimentary intellects of those who live to drain
Now figures pass outside my door singing songs that I can't hear
To wait for rainstorm prophecy to tell when all is clear
I might be back next Sunday, I'll write you if I'm not
I can't stick around this place too long, you've probably forgot
With its chorus of dissonant parrots and its women who beg to be used
No, I'm going back where I came from where I've got, I got nothing
And nothing to lose
Redeeming the troubled with my smile, my mind and all I hold
And showing for it solitude within the merchant host
Rejecting peace and convincing myself that least is most
A panhandler's wrist forsaking pain no matter time held stiff
But for the grace of alcohol to stand in the wind as it shifts
And fills my sails the wrong way out, misfortune as my guide
Selling off my typical word of God for the Hecatic muse who lied
My ambiguous philosophy drips still through the veins
Of sedimentary intellects of those who live to drain
Now figures pass outside my door singing songs that I can't hear
To wait for rainstorm prophecy to tell when all is clear
I might be back next Sunday, I'll write you if I'm not
I can't stick around this place too long, you've probably forgot
With its chorus of dissonant parrots and its women who beg to be used
No, I'm going back where I came from where I've got, I got nothing
And nothing to lose
earliest live performance: April 4th 2002