by David Clemmer

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released March 1, 2011

All songs written, performed, mixed, and mastered by David Craig Clemmer (except where it is noted otherwise).



all rights reserved


David Clemmer Portland, Oregon

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Track Name: Fence
The sun filters through clouds
and a row of glass bottles.
I'm asleep in the next room.
Shutters closed,
keeping someone else's daylight out.
I take what I can consume.

I drive an old white car,
wear old faded shirts.
I seek nothing new of recompense.
They want to find themselves.
I like getting lost, though,
in the morning news of Sunday comics.
I sit on the fence.

I forget the faces that I keep in my wallet.
Too pale, too skinny, don't worry about me; I'm okay.
You don't think I'm a good man, but I'm just not at home.
I'm not at home.

What was I thinking?
Carried out my own sentence.
So I kept myself away
with a barbed wire fence.
Track Name: Rest of My Love
There's been enough here in our pure age.
No touch of skin can sway the rage.
I will sit you down when no one's around,
tell you what I'm thinking of.
I can't give you my life but
I'll love you for the rest of my love.

Don't cry again, separate this chance.
We're too young for this to advance.
Go on home, be alone.
Tell me what you've been thinking of.
I can't give you my life but
I'll love you for the rest of my love.

Put me aside, know that we tried.
Come out of this with eyes above.
This world is so full.
You can't spend rest of its love.
Track Name: My Morning
Maybe it’s all in my mind.
Maybe it’s all for real.
Maybe both can be fatal.
Maybe I never did heal.
The ceiling keeps staring back.
Here, now, for the longest time I’ve needed slack.

I think I may be thinking
that thinking’s not so bad.
But I’m not slowing down.
Stop saying I’m mad.
I’ll just close my door
and figure out why I’m sore.

Maybe it’s in the work I don’t do.
Maybe it’s because I spoke to you.
Maybe the world is slipping into coldness.
Maybe all the idols are fools.
The sun’s gone down and the clouds have come.
My breath comes short and my body is falling
and I can’t see the end of this tunnel.
Maybe I’m still asleep.

(Repeat Chorus)

Just a funny feeling would be too easy.
Caring is becoming second nature.
Only mental legislature.
Please let me know my truth.

Maybe Heaven’s in the next house.
Maybe Hell’s around the bend.
Maybe I’m in for a surprise.
Maybe ends will make amends.
Is this what I’ll remember from the days of my youth?

(Repeat Chorus)

My morning makes me mournful, my morning mortifies.
My morning is a martyr, my morning, it tells lies.
My morning’s sitting moping, my morning will motivate.
My morning’s moon’s a meteor, my morning’s a mistake.
Track Name: Europe
You’re seeing your sights,
taking in foreign lights
nothing can charm you.
You’re seeing things I’ll never see.
You’re seeking someone I’ll never be
because I harmed you.
I just need you here to tell me
it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

Lovers in the back of the bus
remind me of when we were us
and I want off.
Couples walking in the mall
make my lungs curl up into a ball
and I can’t cough.
I can’t even breathe, I miss you. Tell me
it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

Proportion has been blown
and I feel, I feel so alone
and you’re in Europe.
With you far away from me,
my mind, my mind won’t let me see.
Hurry back from Europe. Tell me
it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

Away, away, away.
Track Name: Alone
Something has crawled up my bed frame today,
something callous has happened along.
Given time I think I’d fill a notebook with things
I wish I had done right, or at least done more wrong.

I see fences and winters, and too far to walk,
I see humans who cry for their tea.
I see friends around tables with siblings and moms
to decide what to do about me.

I’m alone.

Not because of the roses that smiled on our heads.
Not because they took my dad away.
Not because of the funeral in Idaho Falls.
Not because of some transparent grade.

Not because I'm abandoned, defending myself.
Not because of some stupid show.
Not because of some girl in old Middlebury,
whom I think quite a few of you know.

These decisions are met with a noteworthy cause
of futility measured in time,
thus I bolt my ambitions and never go out,
and somehow I see all this as fine.

I see bruises and walkouts and hiding from rain.
I see progress and I don’t know how.
I see fowling attempts to correct what I’ve done
by concealing the past with the now.

I’m alone.

Not because of an actress who don't know what's good.
Not because I have nowhere to sleep.
Not because of a brother who just wants to fight,
or the borrowed that I wish to keep.

Not because of impossible climbs I must make.
Not because all my loving is gone.
Not because of my dryness in a world caught in flood.
But because this is how I have decided to be from now on.
Track Name: Irritation
Chat you in a window.
Tell you that I been low.
Say me, what do you know?
Babe, I'm pretty damn slow
on the up-and-uptake,
sharin' up a back ache,
shoppin' so we can make
cookies or cupcakes.
Walk me down the curbside,
feel the rockin' world slide.
Edges are the hurt pride.
Summer, take me for a ride.
Say we're gonna cruise chicks,
walk our old shoes sick.
Tendency to lose picks.
Licks and ticks and musics.

Take me dancin', three-four,
what, you wanting me, poor,
hopeless, and a knee-sore?
'Haps you can't see, or
maybe you see too well,
spot the sheen of her spell.
Baby I can't tell
who's packin' antipersonnel.
Strap me in a catapult,
holdin' you for consult.
Fashion me an adult.
Injury to insult.
Swingin' under lightnin',
tension cord tightenin',
hearts and angles brightenin',
but I let you go.

Won't answer so you don't call.
Crashin' at the install.
Breakin' at the recall.
Your fingers are so small
in my stupid, unplanned
trigger-happy jazz hands.
Lead the band, outmanned,
prepend your number and
take my thumb off TALK,
hide around the home stock,
watch an hour on the clock,
and I feign to feign shock
when you tell me you're out,
got a new scream-shout,
happy on your new bout
without a doubt.

Got a call from Amanda,
needs a heavy-hand-a,
tell her that I can't-a;
mostly propaganda.
Call from Ashley.
Spoke too rashly.
She don't want to lash me
but she won't rehash me.
Call from Roslyn,
turnin' and a'tossin',
bribin' and a'bossin'...
What's it gonna cost?
An e-mail from Whitney.
Say she wanna hit me.
Now's my chance to get free,
but I let you go.
Track Name: State Lines
Pour yourself a glass of cider tea, Jenny,
you look as if a dream had it wild on your head.
I'm dreading this combustible little half-smirk
you've been brandishing for a week,
and look it's twitching like a power line in a breeze.

Sammy's gone out missing again, but what's new?
I hope he's got his songs on tight, his stories all well and right,
and a clean pair of ideas on what he's gonna do.
There's a bus ticket with my name in it, somewhere unprinted,
but god damn, that's the one thing that Sammy's always had one up on me.

And Maureen got a job.
And Ann-Elise could not remember the last painting she made.
There's nothing that Sean can do
except sit here for you and confess and tell you how over it he is.

The tall man has gilded hands, a record mind,
and a delectable detention of a flock of blocking degrees.
He's out there slinging comestibles to congregations in a town
of unsewn philosophies, somewhere more easterly than here.

Can you believe, my dear stitching of dreams,
that your idyll of wax still spits a little wick that can last a little lick of a flame?
Have a bit of bread if you are too drunk to string
your bereavements together: a laurel of namecalling,
oh what a bitch she was, oh what a bitch she is,
oh what a bitch she's gotta be.

Because you're a long time.
Oh man, you're a long time.
Even in a phone call, or the flip of the coin,
I feel my own fingernails are growing.
Old friend, you're a long time.
Though your pumpkin seeds
are impressing as what she needs,
you need to some between your own teeth.
And pour a drink out for our man Sam,
he's out there treading the reeds,
marking up all new desertion speeds,
arm-in-arm with what's been eluding me.

Enjoy yourself a ginger snap before your naptime
in the curtain-embellished circle of walls you call a room.
I'll be in shortly.
Just once more out these windows,
at the tassels of light behind the trees,
where the river and the train tracks
and the state lines loom.
Track Name: Happy Ever After
I don't love you like I used to.
I don't love you like I used to.
I don't love you like I used to.
I don't love you like I used to.

The breeze is soothing,
a hand on my shoulder
beckons me outward.
My feet are bare,
they touch the grass,
grown on the toes
of this free world.

My clothes are tattered
from whips and burns.
To be alive is so refreshing.
So I run with the breeze,
breathe it in,
run it through my knuckles.

At my back is the prison I escaped.
Lifelong sentence is over.
No more chains.
No more dungeon walls.
I ain't takin' no more torture.
Far ahead are endless plains
with sights and wonders unknown.
So I run now into happy ever after.