Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Laura Stevenson
Written in one night, it’s about August, 2008.
From the Spotify commentary:
“I was sinking into a very deep depression, years after what I thought was my rock bottom of depression and I thought the rest of my life I’d have a grip on it […] I climbed out of it and I got to the other side of it […]...
August spent your basement apartment
I fell through your floor
Cradle and all, I fell through your floor
But I can't spill through your fists
Until my hands are solid white
My lungs are buckled tight together
My sliding drawl is like a cannonball
I'll slur myself to sleep outside your door
There's a ghost way up the Northeast coast
And it'll break your heart harder than I could ever
And that ghost claws at my arms
It makes me do wrong
It makes me do wrong
And it pushes you down
And rattles the walls
And it's sorry, it's sorry, it's sorry
So, even though it's cold and it breaks apart your bones
It's floating urgently outside your door
When you spoke, when you speak, broken on your knees
I'm a joke, I'm asleep, please please please please please
I'll be on my feet if you want me
I'll be on my feet if you need
I'll be on my feet if you want me to be