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Hey There, Mr. Cramely

by The Supposed So

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i'm looking for... whatcha you looking for? i can't tell the lamp's on in the corner and oh, my head's so sore and i can't sleep though i'ts nearly three oh, and i can't speak but it doesn't matter 'cause you're not even listening to me pictures of people passing by on plain bicycles like torn tricycles, crying i swear you'd stab me in the eye with an icycle if it wouldn't only melt in your hand it seems i'll never be your man the streets are covered with snow in the middle of july; oh why, oh why? it should be summertime ah, winter's on my mind it should be summertime oh, summertime just passed me by ~~~ inside out and mismatched it seems you have dismissed that which tugs upon your coattails and leads you from your hat through daring feats of chivalry and narrow slips passed poverty it's a wonder that your bones have stayed intact and even though the water flows taking bridges and bankers the same a tidal wave would seize the day and take our poor river away now where would we go to escape from this place? and through the pines, you recognize all the men who had fell at your legs with their faces hidden; did you once begin to crawl toward the meadow instead and relieve them their duty to beg before they all turn to riverbed
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cost-connected crisis cannot take my hands or tie my arms in bands i shiver when asked for more so make me moderate release this modern debt and offer up the will i'm wanting for 'cause no sad eyes can see it coming though we'd been running side by side with i a step behind and dropping out but i never thought it and i never said it and i never wrote it down but it seems like all i'm ever doing now dream as you slide across oceans of fiberglass fields of blue-green cold, caulked and clean like your mom's bathroom sink always sparkin' and you have seen what is wandering but it's always at bay and it's barely alive and it's slipping away and it's certainly stashed and possibly brash in as many words to say you're reeling in yet falling from the day and it's forcing the rains to whip past as we walk a bit, but not so fast as the memories reach me and put me on hold until i can mold and maneuver but it just gets so old all bruised and disguised but merely mesmerized mirage-like 'cause i never thought it and i never said it and i shouldn't write it down but it seems like all i'm ever doing now
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credits

released April 17, 2012

Performed, Recorded and Produced by Michael McGuire

Cover Art by Michael Marras (mwmarras.com)

Recorded at Some Would Consider Studios
Lakewood, Ohio

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The Supposed So Worcester, Massachusetts

The Supposed So is Michael McGuire. Inspired by a wide range of artists as a singer-songwriter, he touches on everything from British Invasion, punk and powerpop to the folk music of the 60s and 70s.

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