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lyrics

Late last Sunday evening I went underneath the tracks
Lookin for some boots that I could shove into my sack
I was pretty sure right then I was not likely to come back
You just know these things in the back of your head
When you’re goin in for the attack

I fiddled with my switchblade that was hangin from my belt
Laughed out loud at nothing it was just something that I felt
Someone on the corner just yelled “do you need some help?”
So I burned a look into his eyes and his face began to melt

Then I crossed a river with my flannel for a float
Took a deep long pull to feel the water soothe my throat
I wasn’t quite sure why I was in here and not a boat
But you gotta move on when the questions come
They’re like bullets from a gun

When I got to the other shore I lit a fire with some brush
Dried off all my clothes while I sat naked in the hush
Heard the whippoorwill trill it was short and long and lush
It sent me runnin from the jungle that’s no bird that I can trust

I came upon this family they were out in their front yard
They were singin in the moonlight and I had to think real hard
I said “My name is Otto!” to the dude who was in my face
He was grabbin his phone I said “You can never go home”
And I went flyin away from his place

Last thing that I know I see the lights inside my head
Except I think they’re real lights cuz the driver he just said
“We’re taking you downtown son, you know you’re lucky you’re not dead”
I closed my eyes and said “I know” and “Thank you for the bed”.

credits

from The Severe Angels, released November 6, 2015
Dave Ihmels: Vocals and Instruments
Dave Mallen: Electric Bass; Electric Guitar solos; and uses the back of the guitar as a drum

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about

Dave Ihmels Washington, D.C.

I am a performing singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist. I write expansive, often experimental, folk-rock music featuring idiosyncratic characters and sonic goodies. I like to put a sparkle around the mundane.

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