Plucking Grapes From Vineyards You Don't Belong Anymore

by rafters

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credits

released May 22, 2014

recorded at Albion Studios in NE Minneapolis by Eric Frame
mixed by Kevin Amundson and Eric Frame
mastered by Dan Jensen at the Hideaway Studios
all songs written by rafters
all lyrics written by Jake Mariette

© rafters 2014
released by Big Ticket Records

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Track Name: A Wrist of Cats
Yesterday you went to end it before it all got too real. In the waiting room, I counted chairs--the tension was all I could feel. The TV preyed on my attention and all I really recall was the luck of the contestants. The Price was Right: your problems solved. They were displaying you the cold tools they'd use while I was tangled up in my Hemingway blues. Under that ugly yellow light and that flickering PA buzz, I watched the girls drifting in and out of consciousness. They were pulling numbers down on Drew Carey's color wheel when I helped you spell Diazepam, though I couldn't really tell you how many milligrams, in that department, I am often wrong. But those Chelsea Handler books you read aren't helping your cause. I should've been getting right and on a new prescription. I should've been writing down all my triggers in a list of convictions. Under that ugly yellow light and that flickering PA buzz, I watched while you drifted in and out of consciousness. I went back to pounding nails and building better guardrails. In the fading season's reflection was the first time I saw myself: I was walking home down Western. Back then, I was always disappearing. They were displaying you the cold tools they'd use while I was tangled up in my Hemingway blues. Under that ugly yellow light and that flickering PA buzz, I held your hand while you drifted in and out of it.
Track Name: Chicago Feet
With all the pages I've written that haunt me, wish I could feel your skin against me for a moment. Been defaced. Unlaced. Holed up and hung out on the hope of getting off this ledge that's got me leaning on closed doors. Watch you see me on the street and start running through your Chicago feet to meet me. We'd pass time to the beat of your favorite song. With all the things that change I can't stop being the same. It's probably closed case. I should just face the cold front of being alone. Spent so much time to get right just don't feel like going solo. Watch you see me on the street and start running through your Chicago feet to meet me. I've been out here in the dark for so damn long. If you still believe and want to give it another try, I think I can keep my feet on the ground for a while.
Track Name: Detroit Velvet Smooth
I'd been uttering words I hadn't used in years when I got thinking about the center of the universe. But there's a guy across the street with a million mile stare and what could only be his wife. Anyway, but how could I think about myself with a preacher consoling them over there. Where I'm at the state song is just a whistling wind. A chained factory gate's the state sole flower. If you could see it. We keep asking ourselves, "what did we do?" Our providence keeps us wishing for something to keep.
Track Name: Directional Diagrams
The dust had settled to the ground I was on. It was one hell of a year, I thought. I'd been perpetually short a couple hundred bucks, but if anything my luck was surely looking up. The ground was breaking where I was standing. I didn't need a crash course on immediate landing--had an oxygen mask, directional diagrams, but I kept them to the left, pointed my compass ahead. Finally started tying knots that was suit me. I had dressed myself and left my delusions in the trunk of a car I parked out on the front lawn, in case I need address them about my solutions. And I was tying all the right kinds of knots. Ones I was certain wouldn't slip if I happened to fall in the trunk of a car I parked out on the front lawn. I called a tow truck and told them it'd been there since dawn. I was rehearsing the best version of myself in the mirror when I realized I pronounced my lines loud and clear. Without the doubt in my eyes. Without the twist of my tongue. I swear that you'd have thought I quit taking the things I was on. But in truth, I had to bury the past. If I looked, I couldn't tell you where it was in the grass under the roots I dug up just to notice the rust and turn my shoulder to whoever I was.