Kredity
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Pocketboy Solid
Performer
Joseph David Baughman
Lead Vocals
Bridget Stiebris
Drums
Haley Blomquist
Bass Guitar
Sam Lima
Mandolin
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Joseph David Baughman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bryan Lewis
Producer
Roscoe Baggins
Producer
Texty
I've been searching hard for a place to hide
My pockets are empty and my mouth is dry
Heavy is the light that shines in my eyes
Whenever they are open
Rarely are they open
I listen to the river as it fades away
The smell of the pines, the warmth of the day
Every time I try my best to go astray
I'm wading in the waters
Neck deep in the waters
Hold on
You were a glass of fine wine
Poured into a bowl of soup
It is nothing against you
And I was a piece of fine art
Until I was bought and sold
Until I had a value
I wish that you had never let me leave
The cooling wind of that midsummer's eve
Calloused is the heart that's unable to grieve
The way that things are going
Everything is going
I looked at you and only saw the things I lacked
The visible repair of the glass that's cracked
Cold are the hairs standing up on my back
Whenever I think on it
Whenever I think
Maybe I'll take shelter underneath a stone
Where all of these changes will just leave me alone
Cold is the surface and gray is the tone
Everything is equal
Everything is equal here
Or maybe I'll take shelter in the rushing wind
The chaos seems to be my one remaining friend
Nobody knows how and nobody knows when
When it will be blowing
And where it will be going
Hold on
You were a prestigious magazine
Trying hard for readership
We all gotta take a dive sometimes
And I was a great American novel
Hastily adapted to the small screen
Maybe I'll take shelter on a rugged road
Maybe I will get to reap the seeds I sowed
Dried up are the banks where the water flowed
I don't know where it went
Sleep has been so terribly elusive to me
Sleep has been so elusive to me
Who can say the weight of a dream
It's just as real as anything
I was hearing sirens before I awoke
A misplaced dream disappears like smoke
This world is an old man trying not to choke
On everything he swallows
On everything he swallows hold on
When I set foot into paradise
The skin on my toes will burn like ice
Sweaty is my palm's detonation device
Everything will glow now
Everything will glow
Hold on
Written by: Joseph David Baughman
