1. |
Overture
01:21
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2. |
Plein Air
02:04
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Long Island sinks inexorably
Into the ocean. Long Island and me
Bored of being car-less and eighteen
Drawing power lines, suburban scenes
At least
Grant me
Some new
Scenery
Out on the marshes, out on the bay
All is uncertain as a house on stilts
Picture me refined, a young au pair
I want to paint the sand dunes in plein air
At least
Grant me
Some new
Scenery
If the tides will allow
If the tides will allow
I’ll mark this down
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3. |
Hey There Rembrandt
02:16
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Hey There Rembrandt
Ed:
Hey there, Rembrandt
That one line’s smudged a little bit
About those bushes
They’re really over to the left
You’ve got a good eye
But your brush strokes need some work
Your hand’s too heavy
Lighten up a little bit
Jane: Ed:
Who made you a critic? (My parents’ checkbook)
If I want advice I’ll ask
Ed:
That’s what you get at private school
A steady hand and crippling debt
Anyhow
I’m just an arty kind of guy
Jane:
You’ve got quite a garden
For one who’s never held a spade
Ed:
You’ve got potential
Where are you going in the fall?
You smell like art school
Bet you could pull off a beret
Jane:
Don’t get too close, it’s still drying
I think I hear your sister crying...
Ed: Jane:
Hey there, Rembrandt It’s just sketches
That one line’s smudged a little bit I just liked the
About those bushes Way the ocean
They’re really over to the left Framed the hedges
You’ve got a good eye It’s just sketches
But your brush strokes need some work I just liked the
Your hand’s too heavy Way the ocean
Lighten up a little bit Framed the hedges
Ed (spoken): Anyway, I’m having a party tomorrow. You should come.
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4. |
Edward and Abby
02:24
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Waves
I can hear waves
Right from the guest room
Threatening to rise up
And swallow me
So empty and spacious
Who could really call this house a home?
Edouard and Abby
Live here alone
Well
It’s not a bad gig
Cleaning up after
The messes of rich kids
They all behave like strangers
Their separate dinners are so cold
Edward and Abby
Eating alone
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5. |
Tequila Sunrise
02:27
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I’ve never seen so many shades of pastel shorts
Crowded around the keg like cattle at the trough
While long limbed Aphrodites gather on the couch
My awkward tendencies have left me to the dogs
The crowd around me like a drunk panopticon
And Edward at the center, basking in the noise
Under the light
Of this tequila sunrise
I never could get a tan
I only know how to burn
She leans in ever slightly, soon he follows suit
It’s like a game of chicken—who will make a move?
And no one notices two people leave the room
Under the light
Of this tequila sunrise
I never could get a tan
I only know how to burn
I think I’ve had too much
Hey, do my cheeks look red?
Her eyeliner is flawless, wingtips as sharp as razors
Oh what a charméd life
To be a Hampton girl
Her hair a perfect ombre, a sun-kissed babe
Under the light
Of this tequila sunrise
I never could get a tan
I only know how to burn
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6. |
Will-o-wisp
02:38
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Home’s a funny place
When you come back and nothing’s changed
Bird clock on the wall
What revolutions have you made?
Mama’s statuettes
In porcelain bewilderment
I still get a sense
Of comfort from the lack of taste
Just to pass these days
Absentminded, find myself
Tracing out his face
Fiery eyes in charcoal grey
Like a will-o-wisp beckons into miry wilds
If I follow this infatuation I will slip
Still on every empty page, I see him
Still on every empty page, I see him
Draw myself in crayon
Let the awkward edges stand
Who’s this plebeian
Who thinks she has a flying chance?
Look around you, Jane
You’re a goodwill cabinet
As for darling Blanche
Educated, elegant
Bathed in summer hues,
Painted by a sweeter hand
How can I withstand
Knowing we’re so disparate
Still on every empty page, I see him
Still on every empty page, I see him
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7. |
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When you tell me
“There’s a string tied to my rib
That leads to yours”
How am I supposed to feel?
--God, I’m truly hopeless
I might be no one
I might be classless and obscure
But we are equal
I have as much soul, as much heart
And I can’t stay here
To watch you fall for someone else
(Ed kisses Jane)
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8. |
Paper Bag Princess
02:19
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Baby
I’m a plant that thrives in partial shade
So it suits me
Under the pergola
We could
Go over to the outlets
Later on,
Bread and wine
Monday is the worst when
You’re princess on the weekends
Easy
Under the umbrella
To forget that
I was just the nanny
Baby
I don’t need another summer dress
It’s enough
Just relax
Monday is the worst when
You’re princess on the weekends
I can’t be the first girl
Imposter on Old Montauk Road
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9. |
Still Life
01:34
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If I stayed here
Into the year
The waves crash on
Incessantly
The summer fades
I stay the same
Would I get bored
Of finding ways
The dunes array
their feather reeds
In flaxen shades
If I should stay?
I watch the in-
-cremental change
An apple left
To draw too long
Will start to rot
Not “still” enough
The wind gets cold
Your sister grows
I’m really just
A child myself
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10. |
Chiaroscuro
03:08
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Look at this blank canvas
Caught a snag and it’s wrecked
I still see outlines of
The things that could have been
The way you tilt your head
Your face in half-darkness
Was never mine to have
Wasn’t it?
Ed: Janie, I swear I can fix this mess
Jane: Tattered to shreds, me and all the rest
Oh what a masterpiece
That you and I have made
Ed: Janie, don’t go, if you’ll only listen
Jane: There were so many times you could’ve, but
Like chiaroscuro you
Obscured the harder parts
All the shadows in this empty castle
Have been cast in plaster,
Brought into the light
I won’t be the saint in chiaroscuro
To your Caravaggio
I live in the light
So now it must be me
Who tears our tangled strings
Who plucks my own eye out
And cuts off my own hand
If only we had met
In some other circumstance
It’d be a different dance
Wouldn’t it?
Ed: You have no clue what she’s put me through
Jane: Wish I did, love, it’s a bit late now
Like chiaroscuro you
Obscured the harder parts
Ed: It doesn’t have to end this way
Jane: I don’t know, sure, I just need some space
Oh what a masterpiece
That you and I have made
All the shadows in this empty castle
Have been cast in plaster,
Brought into the light
I won’t be the saint in chiaroscuro
To your Caravaggio
I live in the light
All the shadows in this empty castle
Have been cast in plaster,
Brought into the light
I won’t be the saint in chiaroscuro
To your Caravaggio
I live in the light
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11. |
Becoming
03:36
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E:
I wanted you
Under these panels
Of glass
Matted and framed,
I’d keep you separate
I know you felt it
I held you airtight
J:
I am no flower
You can’t just keep me
In your collection
E:
Manhattan kills
All this striving towards greatness
It raises monsters
Long Island thrives
How could I help it?
A perfect place for
A budding artist
J:
Don’t fence me in
There’s more to paint than
Your rhododendrons
Have you forgot?
I’m not Rembrandt
I’m Jane from Nassau County
E:
Listen to me, Jane
I know it’s hard to hear it now
For all the mess I’ve made
I never lied about the way
You and I were meant
To meet each other, just not yet
Don’t destroy this page
Save me for a different day
J:
To the untrained eye
This is paradise
But watch the ocean rise,
Watch the marshes sigh
You can come and go,
To your weekend home
Pretend the things you leave
Aren’t dying slow
Waves wear me down
With every motion
Into a new shape
All that I am
Is still becoming
Is still becoming
Have a good one, Ed
This is where I draw the line
Sever that old thread
That stretches from your rib to mine
So goodbye, my friend
See you in Manhattan, then
Don’t you dare forget
I’m the one holding the pen
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12. |
Interlude
00:54
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13. |
Welcome Week
03:16
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Out on the quad
It’s not that hard
To lose the hours
In the tableau
Of girls in docs
Oh, hello
I call this one
“Boy with guitar”
He hasn’t showered
But he wants a crowd
The slackline folks
Look on
I feel the cool wind of a September
I can be anyone I want
The leaves are turning and I, I follow
My cheeks are burning
Keep turning
A stick and poke
Bleeding with hope
A tiny paintbrush
Don’t tell my mom
It stings to change
Doesn’t it?
So crop my tops
& cut out the noise
So cuff my jeans
And chase all the boys
I wanna know
What’s your sign?
I feel the cool wind of a September
I can be anyone I want
The leaves are turning and I, I follow
My cheeks are burning
Keep turning
I miss the sun
Over big long island skies
I miss the sky
But I’m so much more alive
I feel the cool wind of a September
I can be anyone I want
The leaves are turning and I, I follow
My cheeks are burning
Keep turning
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nessa Seattle, Washington
Nessa is the project of Nessa Grasing. Dreamy melodies and angular chords to weep along to.
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