Dead Ends from Obscuraphobia by Calvin Pineda

Dip the rag in the water
Put it to the floor
But you can't wipe away
The memory of me anymore

When the shit hit the fan
You were mysteriously gone
Well, that didn't escape my notice
You know that I know what goes on

Count up all your old best friends
Mazes, amazing graces, dead ends

Hold a candle to the window
You won't see my face
But you'll see the supernova
At your neighbor's place

Use a telescope to spot out
All the finer parts
The glasses, the dishware
The crochet human hearts

Count up all your old best friends
Empty backpacks, cul-de-sacs, dead ends

Play the piano for the people
Who have payed to see
All the sharp-edged corners
Of their errant destinies

You can tell them all their pretty
And they'll think you're so sweet
But you'll be playing ugly music
From a blank white sheet

Count up all your old best friends
They're trusters, feather dusters, dead ends

• Bard College
• Boise Idaho
• Folk
• anti-folk
• best friends
• general bitterness
• keyboard
• lo-fi
• singer-songwriter
• Boise