Pocketing

One of rob's most recent offerings, this is a song about the way a room and the items in it can reflect the climate of a relationship.

About the Song

"I'd had writer's block for months before this song, and I had actually been stuck in the middle of three different tunes. This one came out of nowhere and was written in a rush of words in half an hour."

-rob

Listen to an old clip.

Click here.

Lyrics

in the pockets of my jeans
are all the things that I might need
it's cash and coins and nails and string

I keep my courage in my pocket
I keep my armour and my strut
right next to lint and fingertips and change

but I lay down
and feel that creeping crawling feeling
as it all just slips away

give me time
it's a slow drift motion
condoms, nails and guitar strings

they migrate slowly
round the room
from bed to floor and back again

I keep them within reach
the nails are tell-tale
where I keep the knife
is all they ever seem to need to know

so what is this?
a gift a shelf an open box?
consolidation it is my enemy
I am cancer creeping
crawling feeling
I am hard to remove
rooted deeply
I'm dreaming dreaming
nightmare screaming
I'm thinking of my
leaving

in the pockets of your old jeans
are all the things that I might need
it's cash and coins and nails and string

I kept my courage in that pocket
I keep my armour and my strut
right next to space for fingertips and change

but I stand up
and feel that creeping crawling feeling
no gift like that of gravity
to keep my conscience clean

but I stand up
and felt that creeping crawling feeling
no gift like that of gravity
to keep my conscience clean

© rob hinkal