Dotted Quarter




Acoustic guitar, vocal, and this Strat went into the machine today.

Black Heart (Live)



I'll fly above the trees
Feel the moon on my back
The wind and my hands in my coat pockets
I've searched a thousand years
For my virtual image

Below a stagecoach rolls
On my dark path tonight
They can't see, but sometimes moonlight
Comes through the branches of
A forest tunnel

Deathly designs unfold. "Welcome to my humble abode,
My castle beyond the wood."
I can see he loves you and you love him, but how can I resist
My veins, your beauty floods.

Shine of shoes, dark green suit, black heart
Beats the blood of true loves and fierce friends
Silk red dress, elaborate dinner table, set
Soon to be mine, sooner to die

Resist
Resist
I cannot resist

So I'll fly above the trees
Feel the moon on my back
The wind and my hands in my coat pockets

Candace rocked some violins today.

About:

All the instrumentation is final. Still working on vocals, so I left them out of this iteration.



Lyrics:

A dark haired
Man comes home
To see that
Someone
Has stolen
Designs from
His office

And his brother
Was nowhere
To be found.
Then he found
Words on the
Wall written
In blood.

Deja Vu | 64%

Here's another one...

Lyrics:

Busy night, city streets, taxi pulled up
Jumped in back, yelled it out, "Make it fast, pal!"
Overhead, building glass, like blades of grass
Finger press, number lights, then elevates

Sudden jolt, it was stuck, emergency stop
Ceiling lights, flickered twice, then went pitch black
Made a fuss, finally sat, felt like days passed
Crazy thought, if it's a dream, I'll just open my eyes

Refractions | 53%

I'm toying with the idea of releasing stream-only versions of new songs as they progress from conception to finished recordings, assigning a percentage of completeness to each iteration, roughly comprised of 40% writing, 30% instrumentation, 20% mixing, and 10% mastering, thus documenting the ascension of songs to higher and higher states of worthiness, soon to escape their mortal shells, finally attaining the elysian bliss of purchasability.

In other words, wanna hear a song I'm working on?