from by Hanging Hills



I do so much, I do so much thinking to myself
I organize the hesitations on my shelf
And very soon they'll all be out of line again
But it's all right, courage is an arbitrary word, my friend

Each man is an author, and a reader in the same
Of a meta novel, forming chapters in his brain

The railroad tracks, two slabs of steel run parallel
And fleet toward the sun, to the horizon and down to Hell
False perspective on the picture plane of a mundane life
Trompe l'oeil gets you, it's nothing more than a trick of the eye
A memento mori, smoke billows but the flame went out
(Thanks for the reminder)
Clocks in the background, there's nothing more to talk about
Our time has run out

Each man is an actor, and a stagehand of his own
A propped up presence, living in a cardboard home

In the evening when dusk comes rambling, rolling in
And voices whisper, at bedsides the vespers ring
Out to what power? I don't really care to know
Prosed existence, the universe is a dark show


from Sewn, track released December 20, 2015



all rights reserved


Hanging Hills Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Hanging Hills is a folk rock group based out of Philadelphia, PA

contact / help

Contact Hanging Hills

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code