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Things Remembered

by Timothy Jackson Scott

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Lucifer 06:25
Everything that’s up is looking down Upon me, the fallen angel, cursed unto the ground For stealing the crown God sent His justice, now I wait to drown The jealousy inside me burnt worse Than the gaping mouth of Hell or any of Dante’s verse As a snake, I coerced Joy into darkness; let sin run its course These demons, they haunt more than just you, But even me, their keeper, locked within this tomb Of a world set askew: The ghosts of angel brothers now haunting empty pews I helped nail your Savior on that cross, Craving the final word, simply put me at a greater loss I once read that Christ learned the cost; Obedience through suffering--but hell, I could never bear the loss And I love you like the crown I cannot keep; Like the kingdom I’m locked out from, which brings me to weep And bitterly gnash my teeth Now sackcloth and ashes, praying for some relief.
A Byword 04:59
Everything silent went out with the rain as I leaned over the past Now, the present sounds violent, wrestling in through the window again. I felt sorry to have ever convinced such a heartache as you to make, in this past-tense heart, a trembling cave you had no place to be, with nothing to do or to see. Lord, I could count all the thin-ribboned rain --I left up the window and froze all the same While I was a byword for bedridden shame I saw the future maimed, bent like a wick to a flame. God felt sorry to have ever released the cold crow in me to feed on a carrion-love; to sit ‘neath the sill and see out the sun
Wolves 03:38
I was raised up young beside the wolves Of my home, of my home Where his father made their living violently In blood and stone, blood and stone The trees shot high and grew so close There we’d play, there we’d play But I’m a runaway; you’re a fraud, a fake, a liar We’ve grown away, we’ve grown away The woods are calling out my name So I’m howling up at the moon, “My friend, my savior, my broken neighbor Come home, come home…” Now they’ve come barking after me up to my door I’d dare begin to face my sin And like the moon hanging stripped above the trees I’m cut thin, oh, I’m cut thin But there’s no baring teeth or raging words Just broken eyes, those burnt-red eyes My heart is not what it used to be; I feel spent when I’m reduced to thee My friend, we’ve met our end The wolves are calling out my name So I’m rustling away from the moon All my days, my labor, stretched long with misbehavior Now I’m gone, now I’m gone.
When I heard you died I stalled by the stairs, One hand on the railing, with a thought and a prayer And I answered back “Oh,” before I leaped up the stairs Uncaring, unknowing, like the new winter air Then that night she left. But my thoughts crowded to you: Your old, crippled legs pumping the organ flue The sound was not always pleasant; you’d stumble and make do While the church choir sang on, with a smile to ensue I wept and cried for the sweet imperfections And the wind cried, too, marked with cold reflection For her, her hands, her hair flying each direction, Her soft, little voice when hard-pressed for introspection. So, what I say: Don’t say. How I stand: Don’t stand-- I’m not asking politely, I’m making demands For her and for you, for nothing goes as planned When I say don’t go, please take my hand
A walk to Emmaus in the spring: All seven miles, as your ghost, to you, I cling I had been laid to rest three months past, And now you see my ghost as I walk beside your tracks But you barely recognize this face, I’m like a stranger in this town; a prophet without a base; Or just another forgotten crime, but when I close my eyes I can still see yours pressed up to mine And my hands, left to idle, trace a mold of your back. I recall every hill and fold; the shifting and the slack; The brightness and the blurring; the glory and the shame Now, set me homeward Wasn’t your heart still burning inside When you rolled away the stone and left the door swung wide? But all the glory bled out From every wound I marred and every ghost I hung around This is not the road to Damascus; not bright grace burnt through; Not a vivid revelation; nor a promise that I’ll be new Your face turned shyly while your eyes shone with warmth, “Yes, but that's the beauty of it,”
In the Garden we burned the effigy for all our lost days, our careless rivalries The ashes crumbled, the earth cried out loud before the rain washed the blank skies to the ground “The Wind will take it away,” you said But oh, my brother, my keeper, you’ve read the book of beginnings, seen these people getting hurt Sin lies at the door, your brother’s blood combs the dirt But, there’s one thing that I’ll see When you rise up against me; although, I have no speed the Mighty Wind will fight for me. Your words like knives and my thoughts bled and torn In that field where your hate was bred and born The bread of angels falling now, so slow, Buries me like the cold, white peace of snow So I restored that which I did not steal Before you crawled on your chest to bruise my heel Cursed is the ground for your sake, all your days! May the thorns and the thistles, now, become your maze But there’s one thing that I’ll see after you’ve turned to conquer me; after I’ve seen the widowed tree where the fruit and branches plea. . . . . .You, a fugitive; you, running from the wind; Your back turned, fleeing, a price on your skin Oh, my brother, my keeper, you’ve fled I’m as good to you now as I am dead.
Zion 04:09
Zion, take me home There’s no good here Zion, take me back For what other sounds exist without her laugh? Zion, shine the moon Let me know if it’s gone for good, and if so, take me soon In a chariot of flame, or a whirlwind; whatever is Your aim Zion, I’ve marched on I’ve heard the sound of my footsteps; I know there will be no dawn Zion, I have no shame For when I grow old I still want to know to say her name; To sound every syllable With love and fear, And with these, full Take me home, For the house gets so quiet, lying here, all alone Zion, these are my crimes But, I am back now. I am better than sometimes.
From Glory 05:07
The Old Man’s been locked up in lighthouse, A figure through the sill; His notebooks, full, about the desk Reveal a statue, a portrait of goodwill: “I was taught not to speak, But to listen and see. For when the moon calls the tide, And the sea makes reply, I am a guide for each Lost soul out at sea. “I’d like nothing but to stay To comfort each creak in the night. But, Glory, you’re on your last light; The moon is but a cold sight; My heart was all but forthright-- Oh, burn on through sleep! And sing as I go, Though you’ll be boarded and closed; Though the ships find their home Without a flame or a soul! I’ve been locked up in the lighthouse to decorate the past “Everything’s bartered, They’re sellin’ me off! They’re taking all I own With a wink and a scoff Glory’s on fire, she’s Rust-red in the light, Setting like autumn When the sun comes rising in spite “Eveything’s shattered, From the glass to the sea, I’m plywood and nails Just to foster a dream; Conjuring ghosts Ain’t the same as it’s been Look at me leaving And know I’ll be back again,”
Into the Sea 02:19
I’ll make my home in the sea To catch all my dreams When they’ve caught up with me Boarding this house up I’m cutting my hands; Enduring too much, I’m too weathered a man Glory, she’s gone out for good; Her golden light faded I’d still miss her, if I could But I can’t bear the sight --I might build me a boat, Just go floating away, Cross the bar, afloat
Forgetting 05:30
I saw my old home Flamed with light But, there was a devil-man Come to rip at my sight He haunted my side And I quivered in fright ‘Til I broke from the dream And awoke in the night To the sea All things remembered, Considered in mind I carry with me, All boxed-up and twined But, Lord knows, I'm aching For a just sliver of time When I can lay it all down And leave Glory behind; Leave the casket of photographs, Bent, grayed, and riven; Leave the pendants and sea-glass; Leave all things forgiven “Don’t make me mean,” I prayed from the bow, “Don’t make me fight it For the chains will come down, I don’t want to be mean, I don’t want to be lonely,” A warmth crept in quietly As the tears gave out slowly “Don’t make me mean, And don’t let me die,” I raised up my fist, But the wind cut my pride So, I held up that box And my hands let go slowly “Don’t let me be mean,” As I threw it all in To the sea


Written & recorded from winter '12 to spring '14


released May 17, 2014

Recorded & mixed by Jeffrey Franceour
Mastered by Nick Dragoni at mWorks Studios in Cambridge, MA
Photography and design by Ben Campbell

Michelle Cianci - cello
Stephanie Ezzo - piano
Noah Penkacik - synth
Courtney Rosala - trumpet
Conor Reeves - drums
Jeffrey Franceour - drums & vocals
Kasey Rosala, Stephanie Ezzo, Jeffrey Franceour, Noah Penkacik, and Daniel Wojtaszek - my lovely choir

Sincere thanks to my family, friends, and anyone listening to this record for all the kind support. I couldn't do this without you all!


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Timothy Jackson Scott Milford, New Hampshire

Folksinger/songwriter from Milford, NH.

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