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from With Brooms by Adam Brock

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lyrics

They’re sweeping the early streets
Piles of firework debris
Exploded used up dust of energy
Twenty-seventeen

Red, white and blue flames
Painfully slow change
I drive to the ocean
Watch the winter waves
On New Year’s Day

I feel like a ship wrecked sixteenth century
Alone at my own funeral and I’m whistling
A theme for the future out of reach
To the crowd down on the beach

Gone
Are all of my hopes and dreams
I don’t know what the hell is happening
I feel free

Free like a light wave
Riding a minute into infinity
I write on the back of an overdrawn receipt
From twenty-seventeen

I’ve grown so used to you
I’m scared to death of something new
I’m sure you are too

I feel like a ship wrecked sixteenth century
Alone at my own funeral and I’m whistling
A theme for the future out of reach
To the crowd down on the beach

Aren’t we all coded love notes lost at sea
Longing to change from strangers to family
Invisibly bound but afraid of what we can’t see
Something
New

They’re sweeping the early streets
Piles of firework debris
The winds filling up the sails of red and blue
White stars and stripes shot through

credits

from With Brooms, released October 18, 2019

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Adam Brock Los Angeles, California

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