Snippets from the mind of an American hero. Random observations about life, love, fishing, dementia, music, sports, and yodeling. General strangeness. Intellectual badassery.
I heard that you were talking about me
I heard you had a smile on your face while you cry, cry, cried.
Everybody’s walking around it
But I just have to laugh at the truth in your lies, lies, lies
Play your part, know your lines
If they ask we’ll both say yeah we’re doing fine
Airing out your dirty laundry
Hanging all your so called friends out to dry, dry, dry
You say you want your independence
Three years gone so hard to find find find
What goes up, comes around
It’s so hard to get your feet off the ground
You came crashing through the window
And it gave away so fast
All I hear now is the wind blow
Riding shotgun through the past
All I hear now is the wind blow
Riding shotgun through the past
Heading back to Carolina
Hanging out in Tennessee for while, while, while
We’ll always know where to find you
Dishing out your repartee in your lines, lines, lines
What goes up, comes around
It’s so hard to get your feet on the ground
You came crashing through the window
And it gave away so fast
All I hear now is the wind blow
Riding shotgun through the past
If the name Band of Heathens doesn’t make you want to give this one a listen, I don’t know what will. And if the line, “All I hear now is the wind blow, riding shotgun through the past,” doesn’t piqué your interest, you might not have a soul. Of course, if you’re a heathen, you don’t really care, do you?
In reference to this album, the Bakersfield Californian Review referred to this record as “a love letter to the past and, at the same time, a postcard to the future.” I like that. Isn’t that what good memories are—wistful thoughts of the past and quick hellos to the future? Works for me anyway.
