The Findells


The Findells


Joe John White died in a brush fire.  Horns by Richard Adams.




I think I’ll wait out in the car with the radio on

You can take your time, I’m okay-

I’ve got the radio on.

October came too fast

The summer never seems to last

You were right- I was a jerk

I did everything wrong

I did everything wrong


Mary, I must confess

Last night I went to your closet and I laid out your dress

Pulled out the Polaroids and made a mess


(Oh oh, here I go)

I go to pieces sometimes and I forget

There is a back and a front and a window in between

In a roomful of whispers, of fragments, elements and compounds

I need the smell of coffee,

The liquefaction of your breath.


Mary, we don’t dance naked in the kitchen no more

We don’t do the funky chicken on the floor

I’m such a bore.


I’m busted and I’m broken

And I don’t know how to get over you

I’m broken and I’m breathless

And I don’t want to get over you.


I’d like to take you away

A place where nobody knows

There’s a house at the edge of the world with a hell of a view


Swallowed up, Swallowed up.

Swallowed up in the kingdom of shadows

Swallowed up by the angry sky

Swallowed up by the empty pages

By the magic in the sparrow’s eye

Swallowed up by the moonlight in the water

Swallowed up by the promise of rain

Swallowed up by the brush and the briar

Trapped in the flickering flame


Oh oh, here I go.