friday i finished recording a new song, another single following "the broadcast" and this one's called "local ghosts." back in july i found a short, rough recording on my computer called "holiday" and i had no memory of playing it or ever singing or recording it but it was mine and the tune got stuck in my head so i picked out the chords and wrote words around the spouts of gibberish in the first recording. it turned into a song about made-up people and apparently the things they can't yet fully escape. maybe it's about crazy people. this is local ghosts.
he spoke like papa's angel from the side of his head
while dorothy's on the range and you're calling up dead
i know it's on me now, the celebrations must begin
it overwhelms me, but it's all alright we sing
come our holiday, all our holiday, it's your holiday
stay the play is ended by the gun in his hand
oh walter's all a-daze and he's pouting again
the ghosts are riding by, all sitting side by side in line
all things returning, all things desert me
on the day, my holiday, all our holiday, it's your holiday
james the way you coiled up from my cigarette,
you wrapped around my brow, we dizzy up and how,
how it burned it burned until you turned away
funny the things that disappear, but you won't see me on the day
my holiday, my holiday
