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Third Peter

by Short Hand

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Those Roses 02:38
Nobody knows what those roses know And those roses know a ton Nobody knows what those roes know And those roses know a ton Love’s like a box that you find in a shop And you keep it under the bed And one night you get and inkling of it Through the mattress under your head Love’s like a ghost that you keep in the house Who’s scared of dying twice The host of the house mostly jokes That ghosts should be more scared of life The whole entire history of love Is a mystery stuck in the mud The wheels that are spinning are kicking up dirt But mostly they’re kicking up blood
One time it happened Two times it mattered Three times it shattered And you can’t just let it all go Four times the sorrows Five times the sharpness Six times the hardness And you can’t just let it all go, no One time a phone rings Two times the same thing Three times a wedding And you can’t just let it all go Four times depression Five times depression Six times depression And you just can’t let it all go, no One time in anger Two times in danger Three times it changes And you just can’t let it all go Four times forgiveness Five times the bitterness Six times the darkness And you just can’t let it all go, no
There are picture frames hung on the walls In patterns all over this house Kids grow up in strobe-light photos As we watch from the couch Books on the shelves are still Full of words Even when they are covered in dust The look in your eye Is the shape of the sky And the shape of both of us The way you move In a soft bathrobe Is too sexy to recount Your lucky sheets your lucky pillows To feel the breath That you breathe out To be in your dreams Is to be everything Not possible when I am awake So all that I want When I fall asleep Is the love we could make Winter begins I can feel the wind Through the gap in the backdoor I could say to you babe I want you But babe I could say much more There are patterns Like ladders we climb Till we find each other We could fall alone Like puzzled lovers Are we could fall together
When I think about the ins and the outs Of what you and I have gone through together I think about the rivers And I think about the changes in the weather And me at 23 and me at 43 And me at however old I’ll get It seems has had you around For nearly every bit of it And we could say we’re done We could say let’s move on We could say goodbye but we won’t More good times are coming if we don’t And what might have been with hers and with hims As dreams are easy to regret What you got seems short Of what you think you should get But instead of speculation and forever facing A world of endless guessing I’ve had blessing after blessing More or less since the wedding And what’s true enough now was true enough back then On our honeymoon, hon I’m a walking problem And you’re a walking solution And years like birds and monuments of words Are crushed in our silent hands And the tears and the laughter Come and pass like the sand
They said it was Eve And that he was displeased And we know it because of the Torah They said it was Cain And that Able was slain Because daddy didn’t like flora But I know something other They said it was Noah Inside a big boat of Animals packed into pews They said it was Moses Drowning the Pharaohs In a sea that was split for the Jews They said it was me With weakness and glee They said that I’d go straight to hell They said it was you Because you were there too Like two angels from heaven we fell
There is love and there are ghosts There’s what stays and what goes There’s the future there’s the smoke Out of the real windshield There is iron and there is rust There is wood and sawdust There is now and nostalgia For what never was Babe, there’s an emptiness about dreams But a dreaminess about reality Which is really just you and me There’s a family, there are ashes There’s a passion and the next new fashion There’s a body and a shadow But only one can you touch And there’s a lifetime in our touch Not a pastime, past time way too much There’s a lifeboat in our love And there are oars in the blood There’s the hostess and the guest There’s the proof and the guess There the treasure and the quest That no one can survive
Waiting on mountains to walk Waiting on mountains to talk Some of us don’t see no ghosts at all Some of us don’t see much Waiting on mountains to run Waiting on mountains to come Some of us see clouds blotting the sun Some of us don’t see why Some of us are shaking our heads In the choir Waiting on mountains to roam Waiting on mountains at home Stars like nail hole still in the wall The moon on a hook like a hat The great beyond just the ceiling Above where we nap Waiting on mountains to leap Waiting on mountains to sleep Dancers stand like lambs in a dream There weight sits into their hips Some of us can’t move our lips To say this
She said something breathy Like a fog over a bay And I heard something special In the bones of my face And he said something indistinct And she heard something clear And I knew something skated by But I didn’t know to where Ain’t that right, Rachel? Ain’t that right, Rachel? I don’t know what you saw But I saw nothing wrong with Esau I have been the ugly black sheep And I’ve been the bear skin rug I’ve pulled everything I can from me I’ve pulled and pulled and tugged And he’s been the knight in golf shorts Swooping down from the sky And set up tall his throne for life While I laid down and died We all have our problems In a world too short on time We all feel the pressure nesting We all commit the crimes
4am I go to bed The blanket covers Just one leg An image of you Fresh in my head Of you saying What you said The way you’re looking at me So good looking 7am and I wake to find You’ve awoken Up my mind And I am in Another time When days become Dreams of mine Too tired to leave The bed When I could dream Of you instead Too in love To give up yet Too sure Not to bet
You can’t go back and change what might have been But you can always make the same mistakes again You can’t know right from wrong always And when you do you don’t have to do it anyway There are roads we travel and roads we pass It’s a world of steel, it’s a world of glass There’s a creek that runs half way in between You and me and certain half lived dreams There are swamps just off the highway some There are birds atop old tree stumps Cars hiss like old librarians And silence bubbles up from a puddle of sin It takes a whole lifetime to understand How time takes a toll on woman and man How a smile from up close is a dying star How a voice from afar darts in the dark You can’t go back and change what might have been But you can always make the same mistakes again
There’s nowhere to look And there’s nothing to find The reasons are lost like a kiss You’d think that I’d learn But, no, I don’t learn I fall like a doll in a pit St. Caroline Ingles, muse from afar Please help me get up again St. Caroline Ingles, lover of Charles Please help me get up again The boxes are checked The architecture is wrecked Like Napoleon at Waterloo The good old days Are ashes and grey But dangle like bait on a hook Down from my cortex Some boys come running All hiding from the cops Balanced up high Just wobbly kites They dive from the rooftops It might take a bit But in the end it might just happen in a flash it’s like you can’t breath But you can, just the thing, Is each breath is a question you ask
An Econoline van and a spray paint can The day outstretched like the devil’s hand To the underpass, where we can paint a sign Growing older on Vandolah, circa 1989 A sealed envelope or a telephone ring A wire, a fax, or a series of dreams A smoke signal or some squiggly little lines Send it over to Vandolah, circa 1989 And in the summer under tall, tall trees By the river, where no one can see We can kiss, nose to nose And lay down on our undone clothes So here comes the wind, the great tempting The sun, the summer, the simmering The tires above and the life behind There on the shoulder of Vandolah, circa 1989 Much later in a pocket of night Over our faces the moonglow slides The pines alive like dark green torches We touch so much it scorches And so again it seems the road to sin Was really the road worth travelling Not being good is always such a good time Just like lovers on Vandolah, circa 1989
If it’s us, then it’s us And it’s always been thus So our love won’t split like a tree If it’s us, then it’s us And it’s more than enough For you to stay right here with me I was young when I spun The perfect tale of some Idea that I dug from the sand But you came and you changed My thinking for a change And I found myself a whole new man Over time in this life The carrot and the knife start to feel a bit like old friends But it’s you, bulletproof And a lover of the truth That comes to the rescue again No house cards, here we are With a foundation hard Though the wind and the earth can moan There we stand, hand in hand And and and and and and Baking brick after brick for the home
Always Lazy 03:23
You’re always lazy like an anarchist You’re always lazy when you’re an artist You can fill mountains, you can fill hearts The more art you make the lazier you are You’re always lazy like a morning mist You’re always lazy when you’re an artist You can move mountains you can move stars The more art you make the lazier you are


First and second Peter are in the bible, but this album would seem a little out of place there. These songs are like Neil Young if Neil Young were more like me and less like himself. It's an acoustic record but no one would sing these songs around a campfire. It's more likely the campfire would sing these songs to the people sitting around it, but even that seems like a bit of a stretch.


released June 18, 2021

All music, vocals, and lyrics by Shorthand P. Davis ©2021
Banjo and Mandolin on "More Good Times" and "St. Caroline Ingles" by Doug Sauter

Produced and recorded by Shorthand P. Davis
Mastering and Post-Production by Kyle P. Snyder


all rights reserved



Short Hand Muncie, Indiana

Short Hand figures that it's easier to learn to play an instrument than it is to find someone who can play it. He also figures that it's easier for him to do the writing, recording, mixing, artwork, and anything else that might need to be done. In the end, a set of sounds collect themselves into different shapes one might call "albums." Some sound like this and some sound like that. ... more

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