We stayed too long at a house party on Oak Street
The drinks were strong enough to blur the blather of coke speak
Faces grew sour and tempers hot
You asked me is it worth it, I told you it is not
You said all the trees are dying, it's like a fungus, there's no cure
You asked me would I drive you into the woods on a final farewell tour
I said it sounds like fun
And after all
I haven't seen the fall since I was young
The evening sky was red
I said I would look you up before the winter came
We split a cab, we said goodbye, I forgot your name
I heard you moved home, and tended bar twenty minutes from your birthplace
To look after your mom and lay low, it's what you should have done in the first place
You play Lucinda Williams covers in your friend's coffee shop for tips and such
You never saw the turning oaks
You didn't travel much
All I touched turned to ash like everything eventually does
You ask me was it worth it, oh, you know it was
Our passing may not be sudden but it's certain all the same
We said goodbye, I just grew old, you forgot my name
Minneapolis-based songwriter and novelist Dan Hornsby makes warm, wobbly guitar pop following the narrative of a hapless lost decade. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 9, 2024
Rundgren-esque rock with big hooks and a hint of the baroque, recommended for fans of Jon Brion and post-Kill Rock Stars Elliott Smith. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 20, 2024