1. |
3 and 11/12 Years
01:17
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Nineteen years is gone
Promise isn’t becoming a man,
Forgot to shoulder expectations,
Gave up on love, tried to stop my breath.
26 years is gone,
Memories of past flashes,
A fish that could be bigger,
Staying in the shallows,
Comfortable in limbo
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2. |
Bad Bill of Goods
04:48
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I’ve been sold a bad bill of goods,
Five years to get the magic diploma.
Strange babysitting years,
The freedom you get when nothing owns ya
Somewhere there’s a gearhead,
Who codes and makes six figures.
I thought I could pass for a writer,
But that ain’t enough dough to bake/break my bread.
Disused and disrespected by the impressionable,
Struggling to get on my feet,
Four hands hold the safety net,
But the strong ideal remains out of reach.
I’ve been sold a bad bill of goods,
Five years to get the magic diploma.
Strange babysitting years,
That freedom you get when nothing owns ya
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3. |
Old Strings
01:58
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Old strings rust,
Paint flakes,
Friends fade from your memory
Taking from the belly of sleep,
Wondering how things would be if…
There’s a place near the hill for me,
Moved over when my hair turns gray
Then I can ponder a setting sun,
Knowing nothing is here to stay.
Rainbow morning, crimson reflection
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4. |
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Life doesn’t go the way you plan sometimes,
You gotta claw and fight like hell
To keep your head above water,
Before the river swells.
Some people don’t like you
based on what you’ve said,
A few friends you’ll never meet,
The worst enemies are in your head.
These are things they should tell you,
Before you grow up and move on,
I wish someone had said more,
So I could build stronger bonds.
Rainbow morning, crimson reflection.
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5. |
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Into the cavern you go,
Flaking red paint, a humble domicile,
Frost on the windows again,
Curled up for warmth, scraps and tatters on both ends.
Oh! You had such a way with words,
Direct from your mouth, the sounds that you loved,
Oh! The tape has just run out,
Twenty-five minutes and a long way to go
Inside, you had your own sparkling world,
Molding yourself into reflections,
Mirror of dreams.
In the end, the silence won out,
There is some darkness that light can’t overcome.
Oh! You had such a way with words,
Direct from your mouth, the sounds that you loved,
Oh! The tape has just run out,
Twenty-five minutes and a long way to go
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6. |
The Rat Year
08:28
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I was born under the rat year,
Full of gigabytes and refrigerators,
Communication buried in signals
I’ve hurt too many people to rest on my fingers,
The tarps come down today.
I’ve wrote and sung about my failure.
Mouth pressed to the font in a sheltered town,
Village of heavy shoulders,
Place where destinies were forged,
Meaning constructed brick by brick.
Now dig…
Laurels were never an option,
Here I sit gnashing my teeth, rueing the time gone by.
Convinced I can never make any mark that matters,
Until the past whiles away.
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7. |
When I Look at My Woman
02:25
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When I look at my woman,
And she’s sleeping oh so tight
I wonder how I got so lucky,
To have her in my crumbling life.
She supports me when I’m shut out,
She helps me up when I fall,
But sometimes I wonder
Whether I’m right for her at all
When I look at my woman,
And she’s sleeping oh so tight
I wonder how I got so lucky,
To have her in my crumbling life.
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8. |
Sanctuary
04:14
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[Instrumental]
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9. |
Simple Living
05:35
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Past the lake and into the pitch,
A thousand stars outglittered by lights
Yaw and roll to Boston town
My own way to simple living
Tromp through dead brush, forest and trees,
Chickadees chirp a pretty warning
Callused toe, your hand in mine,
My own way to simple living
Moss on bricks, shells scattered
Testament to the unyielding march of time,
Limping along as the tide rushes in,
[I am briefly submerged]
My long path to simple living.
[Back on dry land]
Staring out at a pond of glass,
Grouse and chick chime in,
I look at you and have nothing to fear,
Arrived in my own time to simple living
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C.W. Franz Chicago, Illinois
Enterprising poet with a strange taste in music. Butchering everything from folk to musique concrete or something.
C.W. Franz recommends:
Put Your Trust In Scum
by L. Mounts
Combines angst with every acoustic genre under the sun. OK, maybe not every genre, but its still a damn good record.
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a dead thing
by pervert princess
Brutally honest yet beautiful, tackling sexuality with a disarming lo-fi aesthetic.
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unbearably light
by chameleon hex
Literate and introspective. Of course, the trippiness doesn't hurt either.
go to albumIf you like C.W. Franz, you may also like:
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves.
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Forever Only Idaho
by Harrison Lemke
Big, strummy songs that recall the heart-on-sleeve earnestness and lo-fi glory of early Mountain Goats.
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Not A Party At All
by Lambs & Wolves
Charming German indie pop with the keen melodic sensibilities and melancholic undercurrent of some of the style's best practitioners.
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