Music and lyrics by Damon Waitkus

Lyrics

It looks like this fire isn’t starting:
the chimney will not draw;
smoke stings my eyes.
I slump in my chair like an old man
eyeballing a son he does not recognize.

I feel a burn on my thigh
like a lit cigarette.
I stand in pain and I cry out,
break into a sweat.

A wasp is crawling in circles
there on the seat, barely alive.
It’s nearly the end of November.
I don’t understand how it could survive.

I go and open the back door,
give the dog a kick
cuz it’s been raining for days now:
the season is sick.

And I’ll be damned if I don’t feel it
after a while, right down to the bone.
I’ll tell you I’ve got nothing for you.
This stinks of the truth. Now leave me alone.

“If you foreclose on tomorrow,”
comes a voice in the storm
“I’ll give you ten cents on the dollar
and you will be warm.”

It looks like this fire isn’t starting:
the chimney will not draw;
smoke stings my eyes.
I slump in my chair like an old man
eyeballing a world he does not recognize.

Personnel

Damon Waitkus – vocals, acoustic guitar, piano, glockenspiel, percussion, synth, baritone electric guitar
Victor Reynolds – bass, vocals, bass recorder, electric 12-string guitar, percussion