i rode this sinking ship down to the bottom of the sea wherein the darkening deep burst into flames and i warmed my teeth on the impossible heat and found my feet underneath me again and i went kicking to the surface just like a newborn thing ready to begin what i needed to begin i felt the cracking of the whip and hissing in the street and saw the men who were dying to live i met a preacher who was tethered by shackles and chains to the darkness down inside of him and then a child is free as the air she breathes and i worried how i was meant to live count the cannons of the hill it is easy to see that the mightiest star is the most afraid like a candle through the eye is it so hard to believe that a dead man has nothing to gain now there s blood in my eyes from all this trying to see i am deeper in then when i first came and i have traded my gold for a pen and some ink and i am trying hard to write my name
['deep new americana', 'indie folk', 'new americana', 'stomp and holler']