Broken Things

by Micol Cazzell

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    Broken Things CD contained inside of a 100% recycled, hand-silk-screened jacket.

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1.
04:31
All through the sun soaked valley Our hopes and tears hit the ground All down the tar-stained highway Our poverty abounds Down in this dark, dusty, dreary Parched land that I call home We shave off each sun soaked hour Our hands picking at the bones And when the sun sets upon The stones that mark our graves Then will we long For the golden days All through the sun soaked valley We sit and wait for the day When we can shed our sauce soaked day dreams Pack up and make our escape But sitting now in the quiet hour Before the well runs dry I’ll count off each sun soaked nightmare As they go marching off to die And when the sun sets upon The stones that mark our graves Then will we long For the golden days
2.
When there’s nothing left to do But mouth words so plainly untrue And either way it’s the darkest day Closing in around you You wrote a lullaby Moonlight and soft wind sighs But the blackbird sings broken things Out across the broken sky So you ran down the dawn Out where the line was drawn You can’t refuse; you’ve got more to lose Before all hope is dead and gone
3.
Black clouds like a mountain range The way things here don’t ever falter or change The fog ruins the golden hills And the rain carves canyons all along your windowsill Every winter we just stay indoors Await the drying of the valley floor And if it seems to you we are hard to please It’s more we’re beggars down upon our knees So come the day I leave this town behind I’ll fade off far away where the road unwinds And if it seems to you I am hard to see It’s just your eyes playing tricks on me
4.
06:38
They left ‘round dawn or so So slow, so slow did they go From dawn’s break to twilight’s black lake They rode from seeds now sewed Rumors from the land of the sun How slow, how slow did they come From the eyes of the fading sky Like drums, but you’re not sure where from By and by did they arrive And the hillsides were all alive And they could not contrive a reason to die By no means did they come alone As the path to them had been shown From last night to years gone by They lost what they never had owned And so on down the line ‘till that’s yours and this here is mine From first taste to a perfect waste Like bad grapes as they fall from the vine
5.
With my eyes all turned to rust My head is full of dust But I lie in wait At the farthest gate Not a god damn scrap on my plate I wait, and wait, and wait In the morning Morning Morning In the morning when the light is young When the night is done Life is just dripping wax We’ll paper all the cracks Feel our hearts softly pound But never find the sound Come gather all around And one by one we’ll drown In the evening Evening Evening In the evening when the tide has turned When the light has burned

about

special thanks in alphabetical order:
Jerry Adams, Jerame Barriga, Jeanmarie & Larry Cazzell, Joel & Renee Cazzell, Sarah Cazzell, Steven Cole, Ray Jim John, Joan Pierce and James Silva

credits

released July 27, 2012

Sarah Cazzell - wine glasses in "broken things"
James Silva - Drums

Photography by Jerry Adams
Cover Design by Jerame Barriga
Screen Printing Direction by Anthem Screen Printing SF
Jacket Assembly by Jeanmarie Cazzell

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Micol Cazzell Seattle, Washington

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