The heart wants to feel. The heart wants to hold.
The heart takes past
Subway, past Stop and Shop, past Bealâs, and calls it âcoming home.â
The heart wants a trail away from âalone,â
so the heart turns a sale into a well-worn milestone
towards hard-won soft furniture, fought-for fast food,
defended end table that holds paperbacks and back U.S. News.
The mind turns an itch into a bruise,
and the hands start to twitch when theyâre feeling ill-used.
And youâre almost back now, you can see by the signs;
from the bank you tell the temperature and then the time, and the billboard reads some headlines.
The head wants to turn, to avert both its eyes,
but the mind wants to learn of some truth that might be inside reported crimes.
So they found a lieutenant who killed a village of kids.
After finishing off the wives, he wiped off his knife and thatâs what he did.
And theyâre not claiming that thereâs any excusing it;
that was thirty years back, and they just get paid for the facts the way they got them in.
Now heâs rising and not denying. His hands are shaking, but heâs not crying.
And heâs saying âHow did I climb out of a life so boring into that moment?
Please stop ignoring the heart inside, oh you readers at home!
While you gasp at my bloody crimes, please take the time to make your heart my home:
where Iâm forgiven by time, where Iâm cushioned by hope,
where Iâm numbed by long drives, where Iâm talked off or doped.
Does the heart wants to atone? Oh, I believe that itâs so,
because if I could climb back through time, Iâd restore their lives and then give back my own:
tens of times now its size on a far distant road
in a far distant time where every night Iâm still crying, entirely alone.â
But the news today always fades away as you drive by,
until at dinnertime when you look into her eyes,
lit by evening sun - that, as usual, comes from above that straight, unbroken line,
the horizon - its rising is a given,
just like your living.
Your heartâs warm and kind. Your mind is your own.
Our blood-spattered criminal is inscrutable; donât worry, he wonât
rise up behind your eyes and take wild control.
Heâs not of this time, he fell out of a hole.
- :
- Black Sheep Boy
- Black Sheep Boy Early Drafts On The Road, 2004
- The Silver Gymnasium
- Golden Opportunities 3
- The Stage Names
- I Am Very Far
- The Stand Ins
- Miscellaneous
- Mermaid (Single)
- Away
- Wake and Be Fine / Weave Room Blues
- Wake and Be Fine b/w Weave Room Blues
- Your Past Life As a Blast
- Your Past Life As a Blast / Gold Faces
- Your Past Life As A Blast b/w Gold Faces
- Sleep and Wake-Up Songs
- Sleep & Wake-Up Songs
- Reason To Believe - The Songs of Tim Hardin
- Shiloh Town
- Reason to Believe - The Songs of Tim Hardin (Bonus Track...