Polaroids Have No Negatves

by mt. shasta

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05:29

about

Recorded live at The Sandbox in Newark, NJ.

credits

released July 9, 2017

Written, performed and recorded by Andrew Sheldon

Drawing by MJR
Layout by Brian Walker
Cover photo and art by Andrew Sheldon

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all rights reserved

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mt. shasta Easton, Pennsylvania

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Track Name: “I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody.”
Winter rolled through New Jersey,
A month to two months late.
We'd been fooled for weeks,
Through January,
Now this snowfall seems so strange.

And headlights blaze,
Through the flakes of snow,
As my car slights left to right,
On my way back home.

I stop the car and pick a dot,
And follow it to the ground.
It hits the white and disappears,
Like another face in the crowd.

And this is life outside the microscope.
Where nothing ever seems to be alone.
Track Name: Polaroids Have No Negatives
Dressed up like Dick Tracy,
On a Fisher-Price slide,
While Jamie sings Michael Jackson,
And Moonwalks in time.

The tapes that captured it,
Will erase themselves in time,
And leave a gust of wind,
That will blow within your mind.

You lost a person,
Who wasn't even there;
A concept of a character,
You pulled from thin air.

He did all he could,
But he was beyond repair.
But in the dark, with records on,
He'd come alive, he would swear.

You took a dozen daisies,
And you put them on display:
A beautiful exhibition,
For as long as they'll stay.
Track Name: Running Water
She calls me on the phone,
An old lover.
She asks me how I've been.
I say that I'm still prone,
To fits of nostalgia,
Every now and again.

She says she feels the weight,
Of every passing day,
And knew that I'd understand.

She says she sees a girl,
Running through sprinklers,
She says she shouts with joy.
She asks me if I think,
I could remember,
Ever being that boy.

She says she feels the weight,
Of every passing day,
And knew that I'd understand.

She says she feels the weight,
Of unrelenting change,
And knew that I'd understand.
Track Name: Not Myself
Standing at the concert of the tap dancing drummer,
You called me on a couple of faults.
You were right when you said I don't know who I am,
That it's something I've never been sure of.

Now the words, they don't flow like they used to,
And they thoughts, they all just dissolve.
And when they unfold, it's more like a ghost,
And I'm never quite sure what I saw.

I wish I said sorry as we talked over coffee,
I couldn't find the right things to say.
And you know I couldn't blame you when you looked up from the table,
And said you couldn't see me again.
Track Name: Symphony of Sound
I hear things in the key of C,
The wave of passing cars,
The hum of my TV.

A symphony of sound,
On all the white keys.

The squeal of locking brakes,
They all sound the same,
On the morning commute,
Of any given day

In this limbo that I live,
And survive all the same.

I should tell you of my lonely dreams,
Where you sing a song you wrote for me:
A flat fixed on the seven,
Right underneath the root of G.

Then I lay my head down,
As I slowly fall asleep.
Track Name: Kind of Moon
Fireflies are out tonight
Where the grove meets the wood.
Blinking lights that imply
A song from your youth.

But you're the kind of moon
That could light up a whole room.
A ball of light that burns so bright
In the dark surrounding you.

The fading light impairs my sight
As the day turns to dusk.
The coming night compounds my eyes,
But it's you who are too much

Because you're the kind of moon
That could light up a whole room.
A ball of light that burns so bright
In the dark surrounding you.